Miraculous Mary: The Extended Play Version
by Adelled
Summary: A multi chapter exploration of what could have happened if Mary made different choices.
1. And so it begins

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary – Extended Play Version

And so it begins

 _MARY POV_

The office, hell the job is different now. Delia's my 'partner' and Marshall is Chief. He hasn't been a bad boss. I almost feel sorry for him. He's stuck in the office fiddling with budgets and wedding crap while I still get to do what real marshals do. Well, what real Inspectors do.

The office has changed since I started working Witness Protection. New furniture, a fancy security gate and additional Inspectors. Never thought I'd regard Eleanor's time with us as the good old days. I hear from Stan every once in a while. Delia's not a bad marshal. She's grown into her position and has good instincts with the witnesses. She's the good cop in this partnership, just like Marshall used to be.

Albuquerque isn't the same either. I keep on dreaming of packing up the minivan and taking Norah and I the hell out of here. Too many memories. Too many bad choices. Norah is the light of my life but she's the only good thing that ever came from a bad choice. It isn't the life I imagined but I cherish each day with her.

It's easy to feel that way because I don't spend all day wrangling diapers and baby food. Joanna. God. What would I do without her? It will be a miracle if she hangs around till Norah's in preschool. Gotta start looking at that. Besides making Norah the beneficiary on my life insurance I bought another kind of life insurance - my own bulletproof vest. It stays in the minivan with a helmet and a lead blanket I can throw over Bug. I hope to God I never have to use that.

Marshall as Chief! Huh. Stan once said I was his best Inspector but I knew better. He knew I don't have what it takes to move up the ladder. Marshall, son of the legendary Seth Mann could have written his own ticket anywhere but didn't need to trade on his Dad's reputation. His hard work and expertise earned him the respect of the regional director, and her bosses. Even if he is a geek.

Five generations of Manns as marshals, all leading to the one and only Marshal Marshall Mann. He found his niche navigating the morally dubious waters of witness protection – serving justice by exchanging safety for testimony. WitSec was as far from his father's fugitive recovery job as he could get and still be a marshal. I admit, I once felt like Seth – WitSec puts criminals back on the street. Very few of our witnesses are good folks in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of them are varying grades of scum. I've never been the Pollyanna change your life get a new start person. That was Marshall. I'm the suck it up and be grateful you're alive Inspector.

These days I'm going through the motions but my heart isn't in it. I even moved my desk so I don't face Marshall's office. Despite having released him that awful day on the balcony, he still has a hold on me. Every time I see his ear splitting grin and hear him talk about Abigail and the wedding my gut clenches. Maybe I'm getting an ulcer? I've cut down on caffeine but it still hurts. He's moved on and it's time for me to move period.

I've been putting out feelers to other WitSec offices. Even talked to Stan about what my options are. There are marshal positions like ours that never appear on the department job listings. Stan hinted I could qualify for one of those. I just don't know what or where they are. Fortunately I have Stan to look for me. I made him promise not to tell Marshall until I have something definite. Dear Stan. I've put him in a tough spot but he's never complained. He knows I need a job where I can carry my Glocks. I feel naked without them.

I'm working on the Paderewski's intake forms. Four kids under the age of seven! If their mother wasn't crazy to start with she certainly is now. At least most of the kids are too young to remember their 'real' names. These four innocents have taken the move and all the changes better than I dreamed. Only one temper tantrum that Marshall quelled with an origami giraffe. Each kid now has an origami animal. When they settle they can start their own zoo.

Their father is no innocent. Geoff, was running an illegal gambling den. The wife, her hands full of babies never suspected a thing. He borrowed money from the mob and when he was unable to repay it he took his family and ran – straight to the FBI. In return for what he knew about the Galbans he and his family got new identities and a lovely three bedroom apartment in beautiful sunny Albuquerque. He complained about the weather, the schools, and the apartment but I told him it beats being dead. He knows what the mob would do to his kids.

I've just finished their forms when the facial recognition program I've been running dings. Crap! It's Marion Brown's ex. She isn't testifying against him, but he's a jealous abusive son of a bitch. After seeing Spike Jergens killed by two hitmen from the Alsace gang she ran to the police and agreed to testify if they would get her away from her ex-husband. She's been living in Albuquerque and working at Colin's shop, Peoples Flowers. Who knew she had a talent for flower arranging?

"Colin?"

"Hey, hi Mary. Long time no see. You finally up for that threesome with me and Ingrid?

"I don't know. Are you 50 yet?" I don't have time to stoke his fantasy today. "Is Marion there?"

I'm always abrupt but he knows I didn't call to chat. "Uh, yeah. She's working today. Why?"

Colin Berenson hires biker ex-cons and the occasional 'friend' of Mary. "Her ex is in town. Get her out of sight and keep her there until I get there."

"Sure Mary. No problem. If he shows up Nathan and I can take care of him."

Nathan's still working there? He and Colin fought every day when he started. "No, you don't. I don't want anyone getting hurt. I'll be there in 20 minutes." Colin's flower shop is on the other side of town. "30 tops. Just keep her out of sight."

"Will do."

Even before I hang up I'm getting my gun and badge. As I'm putting on my jacket Marshall comes out of his office. He's always had a way of knowing when trouble is brewing, especially if I'm involved. That Doofus should have figured out a long time ago that I was trouble.

"What's up Mare?"

Oh, so it's Mare now? Only my friends call me that and after the talk on the balcony I don't have any. Not at work. But this is not the time to school him in the error of his ways.

"Marion Brown's ex showed up on the video feed from Sunport, Chief. I'm going to Colin's to get her."

As I'm pulling my hair outside my jacket collar I see him wince when I call him Chief. Too bad. That's who he is now. That's what he wanted.

"I'm coming with you. Colin can be," he pauses looking for just the right word. "volatile. Delia's in court and I don't have anyone else to send."

Translation: There's no one else I would trust to come with me. He's right. But it's also true that there's no one he would trust to have my back. Nice to know he still sort of cares.

"I can do my job Chief. Marion's ex has only been in town an hour or two. I want to know how he found her because if he could the Alsace gang can too."

Marshall's suit jacket flaps as he runs to his office for his gun and badge. I don't wait for him and head to the parking structure. I've got the van side door open and am smoothing my tank top over my flak jacket when he appears. I put on my leather jacket and close the side door then get in the driver's seat, starting the car. He glares at me through the passenger window until I unlock the door. I could leave him standing there, but that would be childish, and he is the Chief. Tempting though.

Colin's place isn't that far. I park the van around back and jump out. I knock on the back door while Marshall walks around to the front of the store. Marion should be in back, safe. "Colin! It's Mary. Open up." Nathan opens the door and I scoot in. "Where's Marion?"

Nathan points to the storage room and I'm heading there when I hear Marshall shouting from the front of the store. What the hell? What does Marshall think he's doing? I poke my head in the storage room. "It's going to be okay Marion. I'll be back in a minute. Hide and don't come out till I tell you." She nods and squats down behind some hay bales. Hay bales? There's another shout and the sound of glass smashing.

I crouch down and draw my gun pointing it down using both hands. Colin is a big guy and I can see he's got another man – Marion's ex - in a choke hold. I point my gun at the guy and bellow "US Marshall." The guy doesn't stop struggling but Colin tightens his hold so I can cuff him and check for weapons. Finding none I look around for Marshall. "You can let go now Colin but keep an eye on him." My heart is in my throat when I spot a cowboy boot behind a fallen shelf of marble columns and flower vases.

I push pieces of shattered vase aside with my boot. Marshall is lying on the floor in a puddle of water, glass, flowers and decorative ceramics. "What the hell happened?" I push fragments aside so I can kneel and check Marshall.

"This guy," Colin tightens his choke hold when the idiot struggles. "Clocked him with one of those marble columns and pushed the entire display over on him." I follow Colin's nod to a white marble column with a piece missing. Is that blood?

I put my fingers on Marshall's carotid, relieved when I feel a pulse. "Only you could get hit with a Greek column, Doofus. You're much too snooty to get hit by something as mundane as a brick." He doesn't look bad. Is that blood oozing from the back of his head? "C'mon Marshall. Wakey wakey." When he doesn't respond I get out my phone and call 911. "Officer down." I give them my badge number and hand the phone to Colin to give them the address. "C'mon Doofus. You're going to be fine. You've been hit harder than that. Hell I've hit you harder than that."

Minutes pass. I elevate his legs and check his breathing. His heart beat seems normal. Everything looks normal except that he's lying on the floor with his eyes closed. "Dammit Doofus. Get up already. You're gonna make me worry, and I hate to worry." The EMT's arrive, ask me his name and get him on a gurney. "What hospital?" I yell after them.

One of them turns. "Presbyterian." I've caught up to them so I don't have to shout. "Take good care of him. He's a US Marshal, one of the good guys." It's not till they've loaded him in the ambulance and have driven away that I realize I gave them his cover name, Miller. Crap! Hope that doesn't mess up his treatment. His medical records are under his real name.

Now it's up to me to take care of the bad guy, Marion's ex. I can get him on assaulting a federal officer and see what else I can dig up once I get back to the office. I call ABQPD and tell them to come get him. Then I ask for Abigail. I haven't said two words to her since she and Marshall announced their engagement but I can't avoid her now. She is his fiancée and deserves to know.

"Detective Chaffee? This is Inspector Shannon." I'm biting the inside of my cheek to be polite to this coffee treating southern fried defective detective. "Marshall's been injured. They're taking him to Presbyterian. Thought you'd want to know." I don't know why Marshall is still out so I don't have more to say. "No, he wasn't shot. He was hit in the head." She has more questions but I don't have any answers.

To her credit Abigail doesn't freak out. She's a detective and has seen her fair share of gore and bruises. Of course it's different when it's someone you know, someone you love. Someone who's said they love you. I am glad to get that conversation over with even though I hung up on her.

ABQPD has made good time and Marion's ex is being waltzed into the paddy wagon by two burly uniforms. Now I can get my witness. "Marion?" I approach the storage room. "It's Mary. He's gone. You can come out now." She rushes out and wraps her arms around my waist. "Do you have any idea how he found you? Have you contacted anyone from home?" She can't think of anything but she's too rattled to think. Once she's safe I'll ask her again. It could be something as simple as a post card with an Albuquerque postmark. Or something more sinister, like a WitSec mole.

I call the office and get Charlie and one of the Phoenix marshals to take Marion to a safe house. Until we know how her ex found her, she's not safe here. There are transfer papers in my future. I feel bad about the mess we've made of Colin's store and find a $50 in my wallet. "Here, I'll expense it through the office. Let me know the damages and I'll see that you get reimbursed."

"Nyah Mary. It's okay. I sweep up bigger messes than this after doing a wedding. Just let me know how Marshall's doing."

"I will," I assure him.

Nothing left to do but wait for Charlie and start on getting Marion transferred - right after I check on Doofus, I mean Chief.

* * *

A/N: This one's for Meg whose review on the last Miraculous Mary one shot I re-read whenever I need a boost. Thanks! This is not a one shot. This story will follow Mary through the ramifications of the changes she makes. Check in next Saturday for the continuing adventures of Mary and Marshall.


	2. Hospital Daze

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Hospital Daze

 _MARY POV_

As soon as Marion left with Charlie I headed for Presbyterian, a hospital I'd visited too damn many times. Doofus, uh Marshall, um, Chief told me their trauma department is one of the best. They'd better be able to figure out why Marshall didn't wake up.

The ER is its usual chaos. I push my head over the counter and my cleavage catches the appreciative eye of the male nurse on duty. "Marshal Shannon," I thrust my badge at him. "A US Marshal was brought in here a few minutes ago. Do you have any information on him, Marshall Mann?"

"Let me see if he's been checked in. No, I'm sorry there's no Mr. Mann."

Crap! I gave them Marshall's cover name. I really am losing it. Maybe it is time to get out of this business! "Sorry. His name is Miller, Marshall Miller."

The guy gives me an odd look but checks the computer. I cross my forearms on the counter and glare at him. He should know better than to stare at my boobs. I've got a gun. "Miller? Yes. He's being assessed by Dr. Barak. As soon as the doctor is done I'll have him speak with you." Before I can ask any more questions he's answering the phone although his eyes stay on me.

The waiting room is full of tense family members comforting their suffering loved ones. My gaze settles on the entrance. Where in the hell is Abigail? She's had enough time to get here. Well, well. There she is powering into the ER, heels clacking, trench coat billowing, the very picture of wifely worry. "Abigail!" She's heading straight for the desk. I can't tell if she's ignoring me or if she didn't see me. "Abigail!" She whirls and frowns.

I force her to stop by standing right in front of her. "Marshall Miller is being examined. The nurse here," I tilt my head toward the counter, "said a Dr. Barak will let us know his condition as soon as he's done." I hope she takes the hint and realizes that Marshall is under his cover name. Her startled expression fades as she connects the dots. If she didn't already know his cover name she does now.

"What happened? Why is he here?" That's what she says but her body language questions why I am here. I'm certain she thinks it's my fault.

"He was hit in the head with a flower thing, a ceramic thing" I splutter, "at a flower shop." She gives me a strange look probably thinking Marshall was looking at wedding flowers. The skin between her eyebrows forms a v. Why would I be with Marshall if he's doing wedding stuff? I huff. I don't know what in the hell to call the thing that hit him. In frustration I hold my hands about a foot apart. "It's a marble thing that looks like a Greek column. About this big."

"Marble?" She's moved from questioning why I was with Marshall to doubting my observation skills. Figures. Abigail doesn't think much of me and the feeling is mutual.

"Looked like marble. It was heavy." How the hell would I know? I'd never seen one before today.

Her eyes narrow. "Where were you when he was hit?" WTF? Of course she thinks it's my fault.

"I was in the back of the store. Marshall had come in the front." _C'mon detective, you know we're WitSec. Figure it out!_ "The shop owner got the guy that hit Marshall and your guys picked him up. When I got there Marshall was unconscious and there was a little blood back here." I flick my finger to the back of my neck.

"Oh." If she has a tenth of the medical knowledge that Marshall has she's now rifling through it trying to figure out how serious his injury is. Damn if I know. I hope it's not bad.

"Family of Marshall Miller?" A stocky guy in scrubs with gray stubble and a clip board is at the doors to the treatment rooms. Abigail and I turn as one and rush over. He gives us a curious look but he must know Marshall is law enforcement and decides to spare us the usual family only warning.

"I'm Dr. Barak. I'm afraid Mr. Miller has a concussion." When he pauses I know it's because he hasn't given us the bad news. "The blow to his head caused bleeding into his brain."

"And the pressure on his brain made him pass out?" Abigail concludes.

"Well, yes." Dr. Barak seems affronted by having the patient's family member making a diagnosis. "He needs a CT scan to assess the damage and since he hasn't regained consciousness I need the approval of his medical proxy to install a shunt to relieve the pressure on the brain." Pen in hand he tilts the clipboard toward us. "Can one of you sign the consent form?"

I look at Abigail but she is silent, staring at me. "I can." I take the clipboard and sign on the dotted line. "Do whatever he needs." Why isn't Abigail Marshall's proxy? When he comes to I'm going to ask him. It's not like him to mess up on a detail like that. He's the detail guy.

Abigail, hands on hips, gives the doc her no-nonsense face. "I want to see him, I'm his fiancée."

I'd been waiting for her to stake her claim. Stake. Funny word. Feels like she just staked me proving that I have no claim on Marshall. The Doc looks at me. "Sure." It's a tiny bit of satisfaction having the doc look to me to approve Abigail's visit. Silly? Maybe. But I take my wins where I can. After all I already lost the big one - Marshall.

Doc gestures down the hall. "You can go in now. The nurses will be there soon to get him ready for transport."

I hold my hand out, deferring to Abigail. I stay at the end of the hall as she follows the doc. I watch her enter the room of the man who used to be my best friend. I stand watch waiting for a sign that Marshall is going to be okay.

Thirty minutes have passed and he still hasn't been moved. Is it okay for Marshall to be bleeding all this time? I squint down the hall. Abigail is coming out of his room. Why would she leave now? Marshall can't be dead. There'd be a ton of medical staff if he was dying. She's sobbing into her phone and walking toward me. What the hell is so important that she would leave her fiancé? As she passes she turns toward me. Her eyes are wet. "Tell Marshall I'm sorry. This is terrible timing but I have to go. I'll explain it to him when I get back." She wipes her eyes and flicks her hand toward his room. "Stay with him, please. Someone he knows should be there when he wakes up."

Since I'm his medical proxy she can't do more than hold his hand. Still I would think she'd want to stay. What would take her away from the man she claims to love? Whatever. I need to see Marshall and since Miss Priss has given me permission I'm going in.

The room is full of muted medical noises. A single curtain separates him from the other patient in the room. Marshall has an IV and one of those finger clip thingees that measures something. A sheet covers him from the waist down. What happened to his boots? His shirt is gone and his chest has white circles with wires attached. He's breathing on his own so that's good. But he's so pale his five o'clock shadow is almost black against his cheeks. They haven't even bandaged the back of his head! There's just some gauze behind his neck. I'm about to hit the call button and raise holy hell when the monitors start blaring.

"Marshall! Marshall!" I grab his hand and bend down to see his face. His eyes open and then his whole body jerks. I know he recognized me. The nurses muscle me aside as they swarm around his bed. A doctor arrives and I shiver when I hear him say "Hold him. He's seizing." Oh Jeezus. Where is Abigail? Did she do something to him?

A doctor in surgical scrubs complete with hat and dangling mask comes in and stands out of the way, observing, waiting his turn? Marshall would know what the alarms mean. He'd know how serious it is. But I haven't swallowed a medical encyclopedia and I'm holding on by a thread. I bark at the doctor raising my voice to be heard over the cacophony in the room. "What's happening? Why did the alarms go off?"

He must know I'm considered family and his expression softens. "He's having a stroke. A blood clot from his injury has moved into his brain. If," he clears his throat, "when they get him stabilized he'll go into surgery."

There's a million brain surgeon jokes but the blaring monitors aren't funny. I shrink into the corner watching as all sorts of invasive medical atrocities are done to Marshall. The surgeon is gone. I didn't see him leave. C'mon Marshall. Fight, dammit, fight.

There's a moment where I think of calling Abigail but the need to see what's happening to Marshall quickly overrules that impulse. I've been nervously fingering my miraculous medal since the alarms went off. Oh dear mother Mary, if there was ever a time for a miracle this is it.

All eyes and hands are on Marshall when I sink down on my knees and put the medal between my palms and pray. "Dear God, Jesus, your holy mother and all the saints, save his life." I'm not leaving anyone out of my plea. "He's a good man. One of the best. Please please let him live. Hail Mary full of grace. . . ." I continue the prayer I had learned as a child, pleading with the Blessed Mother as I wipe the tears blurring my vision. My prayers have never been answered before but I don't know what else to do.

I close my eyes and focus. "Please Blessed Mother. Marshall is finally getting the life, the wife and kids he has yearned for. Don't let him die. Please Mary. You know what it's like to lose a son. Don't let his mother suffer the loss of her son. Please. I'll do anything if you'll save him."

I doubt it's the intensity of my pleas, but the hospital room fades as I hear "We're losing him. We're losing him. Where's the damn crash cart?" I'm in some sort of fog. I wipe my eyes trying to clear them. Why would there be fog in a hospital? What's going on? Did I pass out? Am I dreaming?

I notice a flicker of movement from the middle of the cloud. A darker area slowly solidifies into a woman dressed in a long blue robe. She seems to glow as the fog melts around her. I didn't see her move but suddenly she's right in front of me, smiling down at me. This has got to be my weirdest dream ever.

Just in case, I hold up my miraculous medal. The medal with the image that matches the woman before me. "Oh God," I groan. "Blessed Mother, save my partner, save Marshall. I'll do whatever it takes so that he doesn't die today." Tears are cascading down my face, my hands are folded in prayer. "I know I have no right to ask, but it's not for me. It's for Marshall. Please, please."

Am I trading my life for his? She seems to know what I'm thinking. Her hand reaches down and I feel a feather light touch on my hair. "Your life is your own, my daughter, but if you would save him you must follow your heart."

Follow my heart? What in hell, or heaven, does that mean? Where did she go?


	3. No Goat Like an Old Goat

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

There's no goat like an old goat.

 _MARY POV_

The fog clears, the apparition is gone and so is Marshall. What the hell? Where is he? He needs to go to the hospital. I shake my head to clear it and WTF - who changed my clothes? I'm in my kitchen? It looks like it did before the FBI ponied up the money to remodel it.

There's no mistaking the blah brown cabinets and black and white floor tile. What had Marshall called it? Tessellated. This is my kitchen all right but there's a mouth watering smell coming from a tall pot on my stove. I didn't even know the stove worked. Raph used it more than anyone. I never gave it much of a work out. Oh my God! The marinating goat! Raph's mother Josephina is preparing that damn goat for our fake engagement dinner. I really shouldn't have called her a goat poaching hag even if it was true.

How can I be in my kitchen with that … that…goat? That happened years ago. I dig out my phone and check the date. Wait, that's my old phone, with an old date. Time travel? Really? I take a deep breath and remember that I asked for a miracle. Has the Blessed Mother sent me back in time so I can follow my heart so that Marshall doesn't die? How am I supposed to do that?

Oh God. This can't be the night I accepted Raph's ring. Nope. The table isn't set and there's no one lying in wait. It has to be soon though.

Why in the hell did I take that damn ring? I knew right from the start that Raph and I wouldn't work. That night I tried to do the right thing. Confused the hell out of Josephina, that's for sure. Then I caved when he told me he had retired from the majors. A pity engagement? Jeez - accepting his ring to make him feel better is so fucked up. This time I know what to do. It won't be easy, but it's right. Guess that's following my heart, but how will it save Marshall's life?

Jeezus I hate time travel! If Raph's mother is here I'll be tracking Jesus Moreno and his daughter Olivia right before his testimony in the Calderon case. Has Olivia flown the coop to her Romeo yet? She will. Ugh. I have to get to the office and find my notes on the case. Ah hell. That won't work because I haven't written them yet. I'm going to have to trick Marshall to tell me what's happened so far.

On the plus side, Eleanor's here. She was a worthy opponent. Never thought I'd admit it even to myself but I miss her. Maybe this time around we can keep in touch after she leaves.

I inhale deeply. Who knew goat could smell so good? Since I'm getting a chance to do things right maybe I should tell Josephina before the dinner? It won't be any less hurtful but the sooner we can be honest with one another the sooner the healing can start. At least I get to put off that pain another night. The goat's not ready and neither am I.

Getting in the shower I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. No stretch marks. My head thumps the wall. How could I forget my baby? No stretch marks, no pregnancy, no Norah. I let the water pour over me muffling my sobs and let the tears come. Is this the price of keeping Marshall alive? His life for Norah's? Maybe this time I could have a baby before I got so old. It wouldn't be Norah. Or maybe it would. Who knows how this crazy universe works? Norah or no Norah I am not having sex with Mark! There's got to be another man in this universe to have a baby with.

Wait a minute. I want a baby? Since when? Since I had Norah. I dry my hair and think. I do want a baby. Is that following my heart? Did all this time travel change me or is it just that the inner me, the me who remembers my other life, has changed? Norah changed me, and now a baby seems like a good idea - if I can find the right man. I sigh.

I consider the plusses and minuses to this reboot of my life. I'm going to have to make a list of everything I remember in chronological order. How many people have the luxury of knowing what happens next? Jeeze! Can I keep from getting shot at Francesca's barrio rathole? Marshall's already been shot when we transported Horst/Lola long before Josephina's visit.

I thought I was going to lose him that time. When I got to the hospital I cried so damn hard. Jinx, my own mother consoled me. That shocked me as much as it comforted me. I remember the look on Brandi's face. I don't think she ever saw me cry. Even though I was pissed about his Peterson Security job offer there was no question I would kill Lola's gang before they could get to him. Well it would have saved me too. If they didn't shoot me first. There's a clue in there somewhere I'm just too tired to think about it.

As sleep overtakes me I wonder if this isn't some crazy dream. Guess I'll know when I wake up.

Morning comes too soon. I tossed and turned most of the night thinking about all the things that happened after Josephina's visit. After Olivia is found and the Calderon trial is over there's that idiotic training video. Since Raph and I aren't engaged there's no reason to tell him about WitSec. Not that I would this time around. After I refuse Raph's ring – again—he'll move out, sooner than before. Then it will be just the Shannon women in the house the FBI trashed. At least I won't have to yell at Raph to stop patching the walls.

Is Jinx sober? Hmm, maybe. I don't think Brandi has met Scott, our half brother yet. My blood boils when I think that Daddy had another family. They got to grow up with him. I got to (get to?) see him die. He cheated Brandi and I out of our childhoods. Scott and his sisters got to be children with a mother and a father, a real family. I grew up cleaning up Jinx's messes and caring for Brandi.

Brandi. Sigh. I was too hard on her, but what did I know? If she had a better self-image she never would have been with that loser Chuck. She's a beautiful kind-hearted woman. Is Peter in the picture yet? Oh my God. The wedding! What can I do to make sure she marries Peter this time? Maybe - if I don't go into labor the day of the wedding?

I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees. How do I keep this straight? Huh. I don't have to. I'll know when it happens. Jeez if my witnesses had any idea how screwed up my own life is they'd never listen to me. Time to get on with it.

I get to the office and smile at Eleanor. That is going to put her off her game all day! This is going to be fun - until she's calling the guys in white coats! I'm looking forward to messing with her. Maybe we can go out for drinks.

My smiles fades when I remember that Olivia's missing and my engagement dinner is next. Perfect! If I didn't already have a headache this would certainly give me one. I'm itching to find Olivia but I can't make a move until we know she's gone.

Jesus calls, panicked and we check all the usual spots, her school, hospitals and finally her best girlfriend, Eric. I was itching to go straight to Eric, the boy Jesus had beaten when he found Olivia modeling lingerie for him. As I knew he would Eric showed us her FB page where Marshall figured out that she had just landed in LA.

As we head for the office Marshall says, "I got us on a redeye flight that gets us to Los Angeles in a few hours."

"Thanks Marshall. So does this mean you were booking our flight and not playing Angry Birds on your phone?" I give him a heartfelt smile.

He gives me a strange look. Oh God. Is Angry Birds out? Phew! He recognized the reference but my easy smile got him off balance. We're on the plane and flying to LA before I can explain. During the flight we go over the case and try to figure out who is Olivia's 'Romeo.' I know it's Calderon Jr. but there's nothing I can do except examine his photo again and again while Marshall watches over my shoulder.

We arrive at Olivia's hotel just in time to head off her dad. I don't have time to check the place out since we've got our guns drawn. Once Jesus settles, and Olivia calms down I give the room the once over. Man what I wouldn't give to stay in a place like this. Of course it would leave me without money for the mortgage or food for a month or two.

We get Olivia and Jesus back in time for the trial. Olivia sits with the Calderon's and Jesus doesn't remember his testimony till she moves to his side of the courtroom. Good for her. Once that's done I get to go home to the goat. Great.

I walk in the house to find Mom, Brandi, Raph and Josephina sitting at the table waiting. The minute Raph sees my face he knows I'm not going to go through with the sham engagement. I sit respectfully and listen to Josephina tell us the significance of taking four days to prepare a meal.

"Thank you." I refuse to call her mama because in a few minutes she's not going to want to have anything to do with me. "That's an interesting tradition. I had no idea this meal was anything other than a delicious dinner. I agree marriage is a serious matter. A man and woman need love and patience and an unbreakable tie that is sealed in marriage." I put my head down then look her in the eye. "Raph and I don't have that. He didn't want to disappoint you so he asked me to pretend we were engaged. I was wrong to agree. Marriage is too important and you deserve the truth."

Josephina is confused and looks to Raph. He's upset and wants to talk to me. Dammit I'm not going to get to taste that damn goat this time either. Brandi and Jinx leave the room taking Josephina with them. It's odd knowing what he is going to say. I let him talk. He needs to get it and me out of his system.

When he stops, I don't yell, I don't cry, I just wait and listen as he explodes in a glut of Spanish. When he's run out of words I take my turn. "Raph, we don't want the same things. You want a home, a family, a budget for gods sake. I have a home, one I bought and am paying for. I don't want to move anywhere with or without you. My family, such as it is, is here. I don't need your budget. I've been managing my own finances for years."

He drops his head, "So you don't need me." I sigh, hating to hurt this lovely man, but when he's right, he's right. I don't comment, leaving him to draw his own conclusions. He's shaking his head. "I never understood how you could burn so hot and be so cold. I should have believed you when you told me we were just good at sex. That's our thing. Our only thing."

I have to brace myself when he admits he retired because of his injuries, one of which he got helping me. "Look, you're a great guy." I put my hands on his shoulders, wanting him to understand, but keeping him from moving closer. "I'm sure something will turn up for you. You could be on tv as .. um… a weather guy? I know female viewership would skyrocket," I try to lighten the mood.

He's not buying it. "I'm taking Mama to my place. When she goes home I'll move my stuff out."

I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I know it does. "Yeah, sure." I tell him quietly. "Whenever."

When I come into work the next day Marshall knows something happened. I keep busy with witness reports, surveillance videos and even a required on-line training class. Dumb thing. I glare at Marshall when I catch him watching me.

"C'mon Mare. Lunch!" He grabs my arm and tries to lift me out of my chair and I let him. "I'm buying." Of course he is, he always does.

Once we're settled in a booth he studies my face. I feel like one of our witnesses, or worse, a fugitive. I slap the menu on the table and glare at him. "What's wrong Doofus? Have I got something in my teeth? Did I forget to button something? Why are you staring at me?"

Marshall reaches across the table and takes my hand. I pull it back but he's too quick. We're holding hands and he's staring into my eyes. "C'mon Mare. Something's wrong. Go ahead, blurt. You know you want to."

His words are blunt but his tone is gentle and he's right. I do want to tell him. He's my best friend. I want to tell him everything. Even stuff he doesn't want to hear.

I huff and drop his hand so I can pretend to look at the menu. "Raph's mother is visiting and Raph let her think we were engaged."

"What!"

"Yeah, that's what I said." I drop the menu and whine. "It was awful. She spent days making this special dinner but I couldn't lie to her. I never meant for it to end this way. I never wanted to hurt Raph." I run my fingers through my hair feeling guilty and frustrated. "I don't blame him. It's just, just . . . ."

"You don't have to explain."

Even now having lived through it before, I don't understand how Raph and I stayed together as long as we did. Maybe Marshall knows. I look at him, really look and see a gleam of happiness in his eyes. He's glad Raph and I broke up! He . . . he cares about me. Huh. Why didn't I see that before?

"I don't know if I can explain," I shake my head. "Raph and I were never going to work. He was so damn persistent, so sure we could be something more I let myself be blinded." I take a deep breath and look down at the table. "Then on top of everything, he's retiring."

Marshall scoots back in his seat. "Why?" Marshall's usually pretty intuitive but I guess I hadn't confided in him much lately.

"Between the torn ACL and his hand injury he doesn't think he can hack it any more. Not physically. He feels he needs to quit baseball. So now he's lost his dream career and his fantasy of being with me."

Marshall understands how hard the sport is on athletes' bodies. "I'm sorry, Mare. I didn't realize he was injured that badly. What's he going to do?"

"I dunno." I take a sip from my soda and smirk. "I told him he could be the tv weather guy on the Spanish language station." I chuckle, knowing that in my former life he did tv commercials for Peter. Maybe he will in this timeline too. Since we're not together anymore I don't have any say in the matter.

I was so bent out of shape about him being on tv before. Witnesses and their Inspectors and the Inspector's families are supposed to hide in plain sight, not plaster their faces on tv. But there was something else too. I didn't want him but I didn't want to share him? Why can I figure out anyone else's feelings but never my own?

Our food arrives. After the waitress leaves, Marshall again takes my hand. "I'm sorry Mare," he says sincerely.

I shrug. "I should never have let it go this far. I knew better." I sigh and bite into my burger. After minutes of silent chewing I've had enough introspection. "So, enough about my love life. How's yours? Still doing the online dating scene?"

"What online dating?" he counters warily. He probably thinks I created a profile for him on some lame ass site to mock him. Tempting as that is even I know better.

"The Russian chess girl?" He'd drunk a lot of my best liquor losing to that chess prodigy.

Marshall grimaces and rolls his eyes. "Mare, she's way too young and too far away."

"And she can beat your ass at chess any day of the week." I smirk.

He's not about to admit defeat. "Only when I've been drinking."

"Sure keep telling yourself that." I pause and give him a warm smile. "Seriously Marshall, what have you been doing for fun? Are you on the trail of another first edition? Been to any art galleries lately? You know enough about most of the museums around here that you could be a docent. You might meet a nice woman that way." Why did I say that? I don't want him to meet anyone. Huh? Why don't I want him to meet someone?

Marshall digs into his salad stuffing his mouth instead of answering. This makes me even more curious. Is it the origami thing? I teased him mercilessly about that. Maybe he doesn't want to tell me because I'll tease him.

"Are you taking any classes?" I know he fills many evenings doing online courses and turning up in person for some.

"Uh no, not now. I just finished the advanced first aid and CPR classes. Got my certification renewed."

"Oh yeah, I gotta do that." Never know when Marshall could get injured. I have to know how to take care of him until help arrives. Next time he's shot he may not be able to tell me what to do. I shiver at the thought.

"You cold Mare?"

"No, just remembering when Lola's gang shot you. If you hadn't told me what to do you could have died." I pick up a fry and drag it through some ketchup. "Can't have you dying on me Doofus. It will look bad on my record."

He snorts and smiles. We both know people who have been killed on the job but it's not something I dwell on. When I was working FTF I never gave it a thought. I knew I was faster, smarter and a better shot than the humps we were hunting. That was the false invincibility of youth. Being smarter, faster and a better shot doesn't always keep you alive.

How can I get Marshall to open up? "Um, I've been thinking about taking some self-defense or martial arts training. You know what we do. What would be most useful?"

OMG I've never seen Marshall speechless before. Have I never asked for his advice?

Marshall coughs and then takes a sip of his drink.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just swallowed wrong." He clears his throat. "Depends on what you want to accomplish. Do you want to build strength, stamina or sharpen your reflexes?"

"I should work on my stamina. I've gotten soft sitting at a desk and I'm not sure how far I could chase a hump." I know Marshall runs a couple of times a week. Maybe we could run together. It would be fun to try to kick his ass. Not that I have much of a chance against old ladder legs.

"Running is good. Have to be careful of your knees. Hard surfaces can give your joints a jolt. There's a rubberized running track at El Dorado Park. Get a good pair of shoes and try that route. I could show you."

Ah, that's the ticket. "You just want to beat my ass," I smirk at him. "I see what you're up to."

Marshall's ears pink at the word ass, or maybe it's because it's my ass?

"Before I started I got the advice of the University's running coach. You need to increase your distance and pace gradually. Don't push yourself too fast too soon. It's a good way to get hurt."

Even I know that's true.

"Mare?"

I look up from the last of my drink. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about Raph. If you need to get out of the house," Away from the memories he means. "You're always welcome at my place."

Marshall has always been considerate. Leave it to him to realize I should be somewhere else when Raph moves out. "Oh like a slumber party? We can paint our nails, braid our hair and sing kumbaya? Maybe we should invite Eleanor."

Marshall laughs. "Nyah, if Eleanor was coming I'd build a mud pit in the back yard and watch you two have at it." He ponders a moment. "I could sell tickets. There's quite a few marshals, LEOs, and FBI guys who would pay good money to see you wrestle."

I pretend to consider it. "Huh. When you're right, you're right." I stand and grab my bag. "Let's get out of here."

So far the best part of this do over is keeping my co-workers off balance.


	4. Training?

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary - Extended Play Version

Training? We don't need no stinkin' training.

 _MARY POV_

It was weird talking to Marshall about breaking up with Raph. But it shouldn't be. He's my best friend. Should I call him about going running? I don't remember what kind of running shoes I had then. Might as well ask him about those too. He's probably done a spreadsheet on shoe features, performance and price. His geekiness leaks into every aspect of his life. I realize now that it's actually useful. Huh.

Time to go through my closet. There's gotta be stuff in there I don't remember. Jeans, boots – oh those boots! Had to throw them out after a disgusting chase. This city girl didn't do so good in farm country. Phew! I remember that smell. Hmm, what's this. I don't remember this box. It's not Daddy's letters. I can see them on the shelf above.

I take the box out of the closet and sit down on the bed. It's a small box, deeper than a shirt box. I open it and see ticket stubs and pictures and what looks like food wrappers? What the hell? Why don't I remember this? There are three photos and they're all of Marshall and me. Where did I get these? A closer look at the trash shows the stubs are from events we attended together. A foreign language movie, a baseball game, a slick brochure from an art gallery, a bookmark from a museum. Why don't I remember these?

This is different from the life I remember. Isn't it? Was I this attached to Marshall in my real life, other life? Why else would I save this crap – except for the photos. Where did I get those? I study the backgrounds. These might have been taken at a crime scene. Maybe I got the CSI guy to take them? I have a vague almost memory of wrestling a camera away from a guy and snapping some pictures. Why wouldn't I just take them with my phone? _Think Mary!_ Camera phones weren't that common when these were taken.

I have time to think because even with Jinx and Brandi home the place seems emptier. That little box in my closet set off an emotional explosion that I can't begin to deal with. Did I have a crush on Marshall? None of the stuff in that box could be used to tease him. If anyone knew it existed it could be used to tease me. I'm breathing hard trying to fit what I see into what I know. Or thought I knew. I have to get away from that box.

Sitting in the living room my eyes latch onto the white outlines of a rectangle of drywall - Raph's repair attempt. I don't miss him as much as I miss the ambiance -as Marshall would say - of having a man in the house. That and the chores he'd done. Which reminds me, my laundry is piling up. I can do my own damn laundry.

I need to get out of here and take Marshall up on his offer soon. He will be so flabbergasted when I arrive bearing pizza and beer, he'll probably faint! Moocher Mary bringing food and not asking for money? I'm going to do it just to see his expression! But not tonight. I'm tired but can't face my own damn bedroom. This couch is pretty comfy.

Getting ready for work the next morning I try to remember what happens next. Jesus and Olivia have been relocated. She realized her dad really had her best interest at heart. They're in a new location with new Inspectors. I hope they appreciate what they have. Her mother is dead but at least she has her dad.

When I arrive at the office I take a careful look around. I'm supposed to know where everything is, even though for me it's where everything was. Eleanor and I trade quips and when I don't have a comeback I go on witness visits. When I get back there's a suit and a casually dressed guy in the conference room. Crap! It's Tom and Brad, the WitSec training video guys. Maybe this time around I can get them to explore the real life of a WitSec Inspector. Lying to your family, hiding your job from your friends. Keeping douchebags from being killed. Actually it's a good idea if you don't have any friends.

I can see the WitSec recruiting ad now: Don't have any friends? Don't want any? Do you want minimal meaningful contact with your family? Can you see yourself lying to your lover, your spouse, your mother? You could be a WitSec Inspector! Especially if your stomach is strong enough to deal with criminal scum in the name of justice. Yeah. Right.

Stan motions me into the conference room. Showtime! This time I don't spend all my time checking my phone. Just most of it. Paying attention to the screenwriter wanna be and his schlock director would spook Stan and Marshall, especially Marshall. I try to weasel out of it, and right on schedule, just as Marshall accepts his role as 'technical advisor' his computer beeps. Joey Tancredi's son died, leaving Brad and Tom with yours truly to technically advise them.

The video turns out pretty much like it did last time. Except this time I actually read the script and get kicked off the set for complaining about the stupid ass parts right away. They came around although Tom whined about script approvals. Brad actually listened. He thinks I have Ghandi like passion! Ha!

Marshall goes off to Philly with Tancredi and I get to watch videos. Well, a video. It's not great film making but it's better. I had promised to take Brad out for drinks if he became difficult so when Tom called Brad 'difficult,' I had to make good on my promise. It was better than going home. Brad's okay company. He even laughed at my WitSec recruiting ad. He had a plane to catch and I had to return to my empty house. Brandi is out with Peter. Jinx is at an AA meeting. The place is too damn quiet and I can't even take Marshall up on his offer to hide out at his place because he's not home. Dammit!

At least this time I have the integrity Eleanor accused me of having. It was right after the video filming finished that Peter advised me to open up to Raph, Jinx and Brandi – and I did - in exactly the wrong way – telling Raph about WitSec. This time Raph is already gone so Marshall's secret and mine is safe. Did the fact that Raph knew what we do get Marshall killed last time? What's that saying about butterflies and China? I'm sure Marshall knows.

Peter gave Brandi a car this time too. But his response to my rant about him spoiling them is the same. He said I was so accustomed to being the responsible one, to being the adult, I forgot to let Jinx and Brandi grow up. He's right. I didn't believe they could, but they did it anyway. A 25-year habit is damn hard to break, but I have to try. Peter's been good for both Brandi and Jinx. I'm proud of her for staying sober but haven't told her – yet.

Maybe if I have a _heart to heart_ with Brandi – yuck hate those words – she'll feel better about herself, able to accept Peter's love. Hell maybe this time Abigail won't arrest her. Yeah, gotta work on that. But for tonight, it's bourbon and bed. I miss my baby most at night. I didn't get a solid night's sleep for months after Bug was born but I'd give anything to wake up to her cry. Anything but Marshall's life.

Morning comes too soon. After hiding that box deep in my closet again, I was able to sleep in my own bed. I miss my baby but I sure like the way I look in jeans now. You never appreciate what you have till it's gone.

When I get to the office Marshall's at his desk. "So how was Philly?"

"Okay. Bobby and I went to the wake." Dershowitz went with him! I didn't know that. "I heard Joey Tancredi didn't come back with you. What's up with that?" How could Bobby go with him? Isn't that a breach of WitSec regs? I never got the whole story out of him in my former life. He's my friend, my best friend. Why didn't I ask?

"I'll tell you about it later. I've got a lot of catching up to do, and if I don't do it today it will only get worse." Marshall focuses on his computer, doing threat assessments and reading email.

The day winds down, the office empties out, only the lights over our desks still lit. It's time. "Hey Marsh!" I'm sitting at my desk, computer off, files filed, leaning back in my chair.

He looks up, jet lag clouding his eyes. "You look like you could use a drink." I get the whiskey out of my drawer and pour a generous amount into two glasses.

I take a sip and thrust the other glass toward him. "What happened with Joey?"

Marshall clears off his desk and comes to sit on the edge of mine, taking the glass I offer.

"He signed himself out of the program." Tancredi's no longer in witness protection? How did I miss it?

"Why did he do that?"

"It's the only way he could go to his son's funeral." Marshall sips his whiskey.

I think about that for a while. That explains Joey, but how about Bobby? "How did Bobby know who Tancredi was?"

"Bobby's a good detective. He hangs out at the bar where Joe worked. Bobby was there when I went to tell Joe his son had died. When I wouldn't let him buy me a drink he knew I was working. Then when I asked to see Philly Joe he put two and two together. I pulled Joe aside, told him what happened and said I'd check to see if he could go to his son's funeral. I did, but the answer was no. Stan said it would take too many marshals.

When I went to tell Joe the bad news, Bobby was there and he had dug up the story of Joe and the Philly mob. Joe came to our table and said he wanted out. I had done a threat assessment before asking if Joe could go. It's been 30 years and most of the potential threats are dead or senile. Still it didn't feel right to let him go alone. I gave Stan Joe's opt out card and told him I was taking some vacation days."

I squint and tilt my head. "Did you tell Stan Bobby was going with you?" Marshall's eyes go up and he looks away. Got him! "Stan knows now, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he's okay with it?"

"Yeah. Nothing I did was counter to WitSec regs. Once Joey opted out where he went and with who was no longer our concern."

He's cradling his drink staring off into space. "Why do I think there's more to this story?"

Marshall seems pleased I figured it out. His eyes crinkle with warmth. "Because there is. Joe's a pretty smart cookie, but old habits almost got him thrown in jail. The rumor about his disappearance said he died on his knees begging for his life. He may be old but he still has his pride. He found the guy responsible for the rumor and when Bobby and I found Joe he had a gun to the guy's head. I was all set to arrest him when he comes up with information about a 20 year old murder committed by the very guy he was threatening." He grimaces as he swallows the whiskey. "So instead of being prosecuted for attempted murder, he gets a deal and stays with his family. And the guy he wanted to shoot gets 20 years."

"Sounds like a win win to me." Giving criminals protection from other criminals just so some of them can be brought to justice is a Faustian bargain. Is justice actually served? It's not for me to decide. I just deal with the douchebags they send me.

Marshall shakes his head and stares off into the distance. "All those years he was sure his family hated him. His son became a DA because he was proud of his dad for breaking up the Philly mob. Joe had no idea."

"So he got a warm reception from his family?"

"Yeah. He did. Before his son died he told his wife that Joe would come. He was right. He hadn't seen his father since he was 11 but he knew his Dad would come to his funeral." Marshall stares at the star filled sky through the balcony doors.

"You know," he sighs. "Our witnesses go into the program and live with the lies and the distance and the unanswered questions. You can tell just by looking at them there's something missing, a void. Very few of them get the chance to fill that void. Joe got it." He takes another sip of whiskey. "I've never heard of a case where a mobster turned witness was able to go back to his family, let alone be welcomed with open arms. Guess all it takes is 30 years."

"It's not quite the same but remember Treena?" Marshall's ears turn pink. Bet he's remembering that black sequin dress Brandi poured me into. "She opted out after we caught the diamond smugglers. She chose her husband and family over WitSec. With the diamond smugglers out of the picture she felt she could. Course it didn't hurt that her mother in law's compound is guarded better than Fort Knox."

Treena told me to expect something more out of life. Something beyond the job. I was with Raph then and thought that was what she meant. I bombed out of her wedding but still missed saying goodbye to Raph when he was called up to the majors. I should have known that was a sign that we weren't meant to be.

My something more was Norah. This time around it's more than my biological clock counting down. Now I know what I'm missing. Having another child won't replace her, but it might begin to fill the hole in me. That must be following my heart.

Marshall is too caught up in his own thoughts to notice how maudlin I've become. He takes the glasses to rinse in the break room and I put the bottle back in my drawer.

"Hey." He's locked his desk and comes back to mine. "Want to get dinner?"

Marshall's asking me out. I squint at him. He's serious. I give him a tenuous smile. "Sure." Why not? Marshall knows my penchant for free food. My figure is slimmer than it was in my old life. I can afford the calories. How does a time traveler figure their age?

We take his truck and end up at a nice restaurant – white table cloths and a wine list nice. I feel underdressed in my jeans, knit shirt and leather jacket. Oh hell. This is Albuquerque not NYC. My only concession to the formality of the place is to unbutton a few more buttons and pretend it's evening wear. Marshall's wearing a suit jacket and a dark dress shirt, so he fits in, even without a tie. I catch him focusing on the additional skin I've exposed. I snicker as he hides behind the wine list. He orders wine and appetizers and soon we're relaxed enough to enjoy each other's company.

After our meal arrives I do my best to suppress a giggle at Marshall's nervousness. He's spewing trivia like there's no tomorrow. "Hey." I reach across the table for his hand. "Not that I don't find how Intel has speeded up their processing chip fascinating, but your dinner is getting cold."

"Oh, yeah." He looks at the fettuccini alfredo congealing on his plate and tucks in.

Marshall and I know what to expect from each other when we're on witness visits or when we're under fire or when we're having a spitball war in the office. We don't know how to act on a date. Not that either of us would call this a date.

Once he begins eating it's my turn to talk. I tell him how Brandi and Jinx are doing, the cost of pool maintenance and my roofing concerns. Once he's done eating I ask about running shoes and we discuss them at length over dessert. I don't think I've dropped hints this big to any man, but he finally offers to help me buy running shoes. There are so many layers to our relationship it might take a while for him to look beyond our work partnership to the something more I'm hoping for this time around.

"Thanks for dinner. The food, everything was good." I nod my head as he stops next to my car in the parking structure. "Great even. Thanks." I've missed that purple bomb, the first car I ever bought and paid for. Ever the gentleman, he gets out of the car when I do.

I clear my throat and lean against the Probe, peering up at him in the semi-dark. "I might just take you up on your offer to hide out at your place. Some nights I need to get out." I sigh, examining my boots. "When Brandi and Jinx aren't there it's too damn quiet. When they are there I'm too annoyed to relax." I look up into his warm blue eyes. "Being at your place might do it." Marshall smiles, a sweet smile. He's pleased. Hell, he's thrilled. I can see it in his eyes. It's so easy to make this bad ass lawman happy. He's a good story teller too. Why didn't I ever really listen before?

"Mi casa es su casa. You're welcome any time Mary."

I push off the car and get my keys out. "Be careful what you wish for Marshall. I'm not exactly good company."

"I mean it Mare. You're always welcome."

I can almost hear him completing that sentence. _You're always welcome in my car, my house, my bed._ Jeezus! What am I getting us into?

* * *

A/N: Thanks Meg and Kyrielslight for the reviews! Not bad for a story about a show that ended in 2012.


	5. Francesca

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary – Extended Play version

Francesca

 _MARY POV_

Thank God the counterfeiter case is done! Dealing with the Secret Service is such fun – NOT. Still the Treasury Department did help. They'd have been even more help if they'd given us each a sheet of 100's as a finder's fee. Marshall and Stan are such sticklers for regulations!

I couldn't help teasing Marshall when he painted a ceramic mug while I talked to my witness, Helen Trask, now Helen Traylen. We went to check out her alibi at the Pagoda, a lesbian bar where I saw the bartender write her phone number on a napkin and gave it to Marshall! Women go there to meet other women, not pick up men! Marshall looked even more confused when I glared at the bimbo to back off!

Marshall looked at me oddly for days after that case. Was he imagining me with another woman? It was his idea to have Eleanor and I mud wrestle. Do all men fantasize about girl on girl action? He can just keep on dreaming because it ain't gonna happen.

Our next assignment is the ever demanding Princess Francesca. Even though she's not a witness - she's a State Department asset – it was made abundantly clear that she was my top priority. I've met a lot of pricks but Mr. Day, her handler tops the list. This time around I'm staying with her day AND night. She can't move to the barrio where I get, got(?) shot. _I hate time_ _travel._ Will I eventually forget my other life? I'll never forget my baby, no matter how many lifetimes I live. Back in this timeline Marshall and I huddle at Eleanor's desk while Stan talks to Day and Francesca and we listen thanks to Eleanor accidently pushing a button on the office intercom with her elbow.

Ulp, showtime. Stan invites us in and explains what I'll be doing. Knowing that our first stop is the mansion, I'm up for that. I don't want to leave Francesca alone for a minute so I ask Marshall to pack for me. He points to his chest. "Moi?"

I'm at my desk, getting ready to leave. "Yes, you Doofus. I'm giving you explicit permission to go through my underwear drawer and find some 'invitations to a fantasy' otherwise known as underwear. I'll need a couple of tank tops and a shirt too." He won't find anything half as inviting as the see through stuff we found in Olivia's dresser. I raise my eyebrow and he quickly locks his desk, and shuts off his computer.

He smirks. "Your wish is my command."

Marshall sees lacy almost there underwear and thinks it's romance, heavy breathing and intimate encounters. I see a waste of money for something that will be worn for a few minutes. Men don't realize how scratchy lace can be! My past 'romantic interludes' have consisted of a quick fuck against a wall, or in Raph's case a frenzied coupling in my bed. Wonder what it would feel like to take it slow?

At the mansion I bypass the cigars Francesca Garcia offers as well as the beer. Marshall arrives with my clothes before dinner and I make sure he comes with us to a nearby sports bar. The same one Francesca and I went to the last time. The one with the big screen tv blaring Raph's commercial for Peter's car dealership. Adding Marshall to the equation should provide different results this time. God knows I don't want to get shot. That hurt like hell.

We sit in a booth, Francesca and I on once side Marshall on the other. She'll have to go through me to get out. I hope she doesn't realize we're treating her more like a flight risk and less like an asset. We eat and Francesca taunts us for not ordering beer. After fifteen minutes of her teasing Marshall's had enough. He goes to the bar and comes back with two bottles of O'Douls.

"That's more like it!" They must not have non-alcoholic beer in her country. "Now relax, eat, drink then we will dance!"

The bar has a dance floor full of unsubs. The music is loud enough that the game on tv is closed captioned. As luck would have it the commercial break has Raph, life size, spouting car sales.

"Now there's a man!" Francesca says admiring the view. "You should have a boyfriend like that!"

Marshall coughs and closes his lips on a small smile. "Actually, she did."

"What do you mean?" Francesca gives him her best saccharine smile. Sweet like acid.

"He means, that guy up there," I point with my bottle, "used to be my boyfriend." Why was Marshall opening up this can of worms? What happened to keeping your personal life private, especially when it comes to witnesses? Is it because Francesca is being protected for political reasons not involving the Justice Department?

Francesca looks at me as if I were some sort of rare bug. "He _was_ your boyfriend? How could you let such a handsome man go?"

I drop my head letting my hair fall, not wanting to look at her. "You know how it is. It just didn't work out."

Francesca stares at me, assessing. "He wanted more so you wanted out."

That's actually accurate. Am I that transparent? Not a good thing for a WitSec Inspector. We walk a fine line every day, revealing just enough to be believable and trustworthy without giving away any details of our personal life. I definitely have to talk to Marshall about this. What was he thinking telling her about Raph?

We can't control who might bump up against her on the dance floor so despite Francesca's demands, we escort her home. She had drunk enough to be a teeny bit reasonable. Marshall walks us in and helps me get Francesca in bed. "We'll be okay Marshall. The alarm system on this place is better than the Pentagon."

"I'm sure it is, but it's designed to keep people from coming in. I'm more concerned about Francesca going out."

"You've got a point. What do you suggest?" Leave it to Marshall to think outside the box, or in this case outside the house.

"You stay inside, sleeping with your Glock as usual. I'll stay in the car in the porte cochere and keep watch. I'll call Stan and let him know what's going on."

Bet he thinks I don't know what a port cochere is. "Sounds good. I'll check on Francesca and see if she's still out."

She wasn't. Francesca was awake, out of the bedroom and fiddling with the sound system downstairs. She finally got some Latin rhythms going. "You wouldn't dance at the bar, so now we will dance here." She grabs Marshall's hand. "Dance!" So the three of us cavort around the living room for a half an hour. Marshall and I kept an eye on the windows and doors. Much to my disgust, Francesca kept her eyes on Marshall's ass. Figures. He was the best student in dance class.

After a half dozen songs Marshall strides over to the sound system and turns it off. "This was fun Francesca, but I've got to go." He takes her hand and kisses it. "I will see you tomorrow."

After getting Francesca in bed, again, I grab my bag, find a bedroom close to hers and do my nightly routine – except no pajamas. I need to be ready. The pillow is soft, too soft. I find my phone and call the one person I know should be awake. "Hey"

"Mare?"

"You're really out there?"

"Yes, and I'm not sleeping, in case you wondered."

"Don't the seats recline?" I hate to think of that long drink of water pretzeled up in the SUV.

"Yes, the do but I need to keep an eye on the place. There's a fleet sedan across the street and an SUV around back. I think they're FBI."

I can't think of anything to say so a soporific silence ensues.

Marshall abhors silence. "Did you know the damselfly is similar to the dragonfly but smaller with weaker wings?"

I don't need an entomology lecture tonight. I do have a bone to pick with my partner. "Did you know telling Francesca that Raph was my boyfriend was a breach of protocol?

Marshall gulps. I've got Mr. By-the-Book but good. I'm not trying to get even for the many times he's pointed out how I violated WitSec regs. At least I don't think I am. "What happened to not sharing personal information with witnesses? Isn't that what you drummed into me?"

"Mare, Francesca has no idea if we were telling the truth, but you're right," he admits. "I shouldn't have said anything even though she's technically not a witness. I thought if I satisfied her curiosity a little bit she'd trust us. And if she trusts us there's a chance, no matter how miniscule that she'll listen to us when we're trying to save her life. Don't make a big deal out of it and she'll probably forget."

Another minute of silence ensues. Then he confesses, "If you must know, her attitude irritated me. She treated you as if you were some sort of . . . ."

"Nun. She called me a nun."

Marshall's chuckles. "A nun huh? And what did you say?"

"You know me Marshall. Mary, sister of the Holy Mackerel."

Marshall guffaws. It's good to hear him laugh. I don't think I ever made him laugh before. Snicker, sure, but not a real laugh. Too much of our job is no laughing matter.

"G'night Marshall."

"Night Mare."

My turn to snicker. I've been more than one man's nightmare.

* * *

A/N: I know it's short, but this was the place to stop. Thanks Meg for the reviews.


	6. Night and Day

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Night and Day

 _MARY POV_

My phone's ringing. What the hell? What time is it? Francesca kept me up half the night. This bed is so damn comfortable. Why am I so sleepy? Aw hell, what did she put in my drink? Wait, I only had a sip this time too. Even the first time I knew better than to drink anything she gave me. Still the jangle continues and answering it is the only damn thing that will make it stop. I check the screen. Crap! It's Marshall.

"Now what."

"Get your ass out of bed now." I'm awake! Marshall never talks like that. Not to me.

"Why what's going on?" I'm putting on my boots and straightening my clothes.

"Your Latin American princess is moving out of the palace to someplace where 'her people' live." Where her people live? Is she returning to her country? I'm okay with that.

"Mary!" He's loud, probably making sure I'm awake. "She's moving to the barrio in Albuquerque."

"And that idiot Day has sanctioned this? He's even stupider than I thought. Does he have any idea how dangerous that is?" I always wondered how Francesca picked that house. Did she look for the biggest concentration of gang bangers and point to the map saying, "There?"

"I dunno. I'm blocking the van with Francesca's belongings. Get out here now."

"All right all right. Sounds like you could use some reinforcements. Have you called Stan?" I hear shouting that sounds like Marshall trying to get the movers to put stuff back in the house. His Spanish is pretty good, but he's not the one who hired them. I don't think they're listening.

Shit I thought if I slept here Francesca couldn't move out. Wrong! Where the hell is her handler? When I get hold of that dipshit . . . . Good thing I didn't bother with pajamas. I clip on my Glock and my badge and trundle downstairs to the cause of the noise.

"Good morning Mary!"

Yup, there's Francesca wearing another waist nipping dress, cigarillo in hand, directing the action. I don't think she tries to dress sexy. She acts like she doesn't care what she wears and with that figure she still looks good. Even if she wasn't directing this circus I'd hate her.

She faces me with a glass that I bet has more than orange juice and the smile of a spoiled brat. "Tell your boyfriend to move his car so we can get going."

I stand in front of her. "First of all, he's not my boyfriend, he's my partner. And second, we're not moving. This is a secure facility approved by Mr. Day. You can't move out."

"Oh," she says airily waving the cigarillo. "I will take care of Mr. Day. This place is not for me. I will be safer living where people like me live. You know – people with brown skin."

"Yeah, well, that could be true. Let's look at the map and figure out where that would be that is also a low crime area. Marshall's good with maps and knows the city. Let me get him in here and we can take a look." And for godssake someone get that idiot Day on the line!

Just as I feared, she's not buying it. Marshall comes charging in. He's rumpled, he's flustered and his eyes are sagging. Sleeping in the car can do that. I catch his eye and he subtly shakes his head. No, he hasn't heard from Stan. No, he can't get hold of Mr. Day. Bastard! His name should be Mr. Night, as in black as. Crap! What do we do now?

"Francesca, where are we going?" Can't let her think she can get rid of us so easily.

She avoids me flouncing over to one of the packed boxes. Probably the one with her cigars. "A small house. Nothing as elaborate as this." She gives me the address and I gulp. It's the same house where Lala's gang is the welcome wagon.

"Francesca, we haven't even tried the jacuzzi. Does the new place have a jacuzzi? A pool?" I like elaborate. I like the stocked bar even if I can't drink. I like the full fridge and the amenities. "Don't you want to give them a try?"

"Do my people have jacuzzis? Do they have pools. No!"

Nothing I say is going to change her mind. "I'm going to call Mr. Day. Once I hear from him we can get going. Okay?"

Marshall has his own delaying tactic. "Have you had breakfast? I saw the ingredients for huevos rancheros in the kitchen." He did? When did he have the time to case the kitchen?

Francesca frowns, not liking the idea. "We have to eat. I'll make enough for the guys." He points to the movers. She likes that better. Hell, I like that. Marshall is a good cook, even though I don't think I've eaten his cooking in this life.

"While we're waiting to hear from Mr. Day, we can eat." He's pleading, and the movers seem to like the idea.

Francesca's not happy, but she calls the rest of the movers and has them fill the designer banquet table where she serves them coffee and eventually breakfast. I'm not happy either. Where in the hell is Mr. Day? Giving up on Day I call Eleanor and tell her what's going on. She promises to get back to me while I give Mr. Day another whirl.

Breakfast is eaten all too quickly. Eleanor, bless her heart, tracked down Day's boss, who said to give Francesca what she wants. Her new casa has been cleared out and checked for bugs. Yeah, right. We're more likely to find la cucaracha than electronic surveillance.

This is discouraging. Why bother giving me a second chance if nothing changes? Francesca is moving to the same rat hole. Lala's gang is still across the street. At least Marshall stayed with me. Is he in danger this time?

Nothing I have tried worked. Does this mean I'll get shot again? Before we leave for the house I put on my vest and rag on Marshall till he does too. He's ditched the SUV but taken a bag full of 'supplies' we might need and put them in the trunk of my Probe. You can never have too many bullets. The Probe fits the neighborhood better than Marshall's truck. Francesca rides with her new best buds - the movers. Once at the new place it doesn't take long to unload. Even the movers were uncomfortable in this neighborhood of 'their' people.

We're leaning up against the kitchen counter resting after hauling the rest of the boxes in. "Mare? You want me to stay?"

"Since you don't have a car here, I guess you're stuck," I snark. He doesn't deserve that tone from me. He should go home. Bet he didn't sleep a wink last night. The SUV isn't that comfortable. "Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?" I'm trying to be considerate, although I really want him to stay. "Umm, you can take my car. I'm not going anywhere."

Marshall put his hands on his hips and frowns, disgusted, worried. "I don't like this."

I snort. "No kidding. Fending off those jackals" I toss my head toward Lala's, "isn't my idea of a good time either. Seriously Marshall, you should go home and sleep. Were you up all last night?"

He snickers. "You and Francesca put on quite a show."

"Not that kind of up!" I smack his bicep. "Take the couch. I'll wake you if I need you." He starts to take off his vest. "Uh uh. Leave it on. If I have to wear one, you have to wear one." He grimaces but leaves it on.

The couch is lumpy but it is long enough. He must be tired because even the stiff bullet proof vest doesn't keep him awake. When the sun goes down I push his hair off his sweaty face. "Wake up sleeping beauty. Dinner's here."

He wipes his face and moseys to the bathroom. We eat quickly, with one eye on the house across the street and one eye on Francesca. She keeps saying Lala's gang are like the boys she grew up with. I doubt she grew up with drug dealers and murderers, but what do I know about her country. I ply her with cigars and tequila to keep her in the house.

Night falls, it's hot, the music is loud and the cat calls from across the street are louder and closer. This time Marshall calls Dershowitz. I don't think a black and white, or even a black cop in a white car is going to change the outcome.

This time I'm determined to see the shooter. If it's the same guy, I know who he is and where he stood. I just need to focus and make sure I see him before he pulls the trigger.

While I'm leading Francesca to the back of the house, Marshall steps off the porch to the dirt patch that passes as a front yard. I give up trying to get Francesca to stay in the back because I need to be on the porch to back him up. He's trying to calm things down but they aren't about to be denied their night's entertainment.

Marshall pushes his jacket back so it's obvious he's carrying. It's not obvious how many of the gang are armed. I'm relieved when Bobby shows up but worried because he was there when I was shot. The two of them try talking the gang back to their side of the street. The two of them versus 20 gang bangers? Not great odds. I'm climbing the porch railing to get a better view of the guys in the back. There. There's a fat guy in a green t-shirt, a Vipers color. He's got a gun and bringing it up aiming at Marshall.

No, Doofus. You are not going to die here! I launch myself off the porch railing knocking Marshall down as the gun goes off. Has he been hit? I hear sirens and thank God. I mean I really do thank God. Dershowitz' backup arrives as the gang is deciding to rush us. I lift myself off Marshall so I can check him over.

"Marshall!" I gently slap his cheeks. Did he hit his head when I landed on him? God I hope I didn't break any ribs. "Where are you hurt?" I'm running my hands under his vest, checking his chest. I don't see any blood. Marshall opens his eyes and panics. What? What did I miss? Is there a gang banger behind me? That's when I see the blood dripping on his jacket, blood that is coming from my arm.

"Mary!" Marshall shouts frantic to get my attention. "You're bleeding."

Craptastic. After spending hours sweating in my own bulletproof sauna I still get shot! Marshall and I trade places. He's hovering over me when he calls for an ambulance. Bobby hears him and sees the blood. "Here," he tosses his keys to Marshall. "Take my ride."

"Give me a hand." Marshall gently picks me up, bridal style. I always underestimate how strong my string bean is. Under those western shirts and jackets is the body of a work out god. Bobby opens the back door and Marshall lays me down folding my legs and fastening a seat belt around me. I still don't know where I'm hit. Has shock kept me from feeling any pain? I hope it keeps it up.

Marshall scrambles behind the wheel and spins the tires on the dirt. The car jerks when it hits pavement. "Sorry Mare. You probably got hurt diving off the porch. It might not be that bad but we're going to let the medical professionals figure that out."

My first clue that this is more than a diving accident is his shaky voice and I catch "You can't leave now Mare. It's not your time. Understand?"

I manage to groan. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replies emphatically.

The car turns pushing my side against the back of the seat. Red hot pain starts under my left arm and shoots down my side leaving a trail of fire. _So that's where I got shot._ Better than being gut shot, I guess. I've got to remember the shooter. I'm concentrating on the green shirt when blackness descends.


	7. Impatient patient

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Impatient Patient

 _MARY POV_

I must have passed out at the first turn but I wasn't out long because when I pry my eyes open I'm still in Bobby's car. We hit the railroad tracks and I groan. Goddamit. That hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Hang on Mare, just hang on. We'll be at the ER soon. The doctors know what to do. They'll fix you up good as new." _God Marshall, rhymes now?_ At least he's making the car go as fast as his mouth. I can hear the siren and I bet he's got Bobbi's gumball on the roof. For a guy, Marshall's good at multitasking.

The next time I open my eyes a couple of hospital types in scrubs are manhandling me out of the car and onto a gurney.

"Easy! Careful!" Damn double standard! Marshall always tells me to be nice to the medical staff and now he's yelling at them? "Gunshot, arm pit, left side. It got in under the vest. She lost a lot of blood at the scene. It happened about 20 minutes ago. She's a United States Marshall and will need additional security protocols."

"We've got her sir. Trauma 1 STAT!"

I'm rolling somewhere. The black night above me becomes the boring white acoustic tile and light panels of a hospital corridor. I feel a prick on the back of my hand - the IV - when someone peels back my eyelids.

"Marshal? Do you know where you are?"

I'm not Marshall, he is. Oh marshal, right. I know this one. "Emergency, Mary Shannon. Can't you cut me some slack? I was shot goddamit." By the time I get that far I'm slurring my words. Did they drug me already? Can't be. It still hurts.

God it hurts, it hurts. Eyes squeezed shut I'm writhing in pain when I smell the remnants of Marshall's aftershave. I hear footsteps then Marshall's voice. "Can't you give her something?" Then the universe turns fuzzy and soft. I sigh as every muscle in my body relaxes.

I can't open my eyes but my ears work. There's someone talking and talking and talking. Gradually I make out some words.

"Mare, you've got to make it."

"I was so scared tonight."

"There was so much blood."

"I love you Mare."

Marshall? I keep my eyes closed.

"Mare, you can't die. Seeing you lying here so pale so damn quiet, is killing me. You're my partner, the best damn partner I've ever had. What in the hell were you thinking jumping in front of a bullet meant for me? How could I live if you died saving me? I'm supposed to have your back."

Marshall shouldn't feel guilty. It was my call. I moan so that he'll stop beating himself up. Marshall hits the call button and steps away when the nurse comes in.

"Miss Shannon? Miss Shannon."

Yeah, that's me. I pry my eyes open and blink. The nurse raises the head of the bed, gives her spiel about calling the doctor, does her checks then leaves. Where's Marshall? Instead of looking around the room for him I'm examining the inside of my eyelids. Only now it's quiet, too quiet.

When I open my eyes again I'm still in a hospital room like the one I was in when I was gut shot. I scan careful not to aggravate the wound. When I got gut shot I remember waking up and being disappointed to see Raph. This time I'm not disappointed. Marshall is sitting next to my bed, his long legs sprawled out and his head back, eyes closed.

My attitude goes from grateful to irritated. What the hell? I finally wake up and he's asleep? I run my hand down my left side and feel slick thick bandages. On the other side I find a wad of tissue. Ammunition in hand I throw it at Marshall. Damn I'm good. Hit him right on the nose. If it didn't hurt so much I'd laugh as he struggles awake. He must be exhausted.

He blinks once and dry washes his face before he looks at me. "Mare?"

"Yeah Doofus." I figure I can call him that since I'm injured. "What are the damages?" The nurse told me something, but I need my medical translator.

He stands next to the bed and gives me the once over. When he concludes all my parts are there and I'm lucid he asks, "Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

Oh crap. Will I be able to be an Inspector? I don't know how to do anything else.

"Uh, bad."

"Your left hand will be out of commission for 3-6 months. And you'll have to do rehab to regain the proficiency you had. Depends on whether there's additional nerve damage and how bad it is. The doc thinks it's okay, but nerves are tricky."

That's the bad news? Rehab? I can do that. I can still be a marshal?

"The good news is the bullet hit shallow and bounced off a rib which prevented it from going into your lungs."

I lay my head back on the pillow and exhale. "That doesn't sound too bad." I check his expression. He's frowning and not a tired frown. "What aren't you telling me?"

Marshall grimaces. "We didn't get the shooter and Stan has you on medical leave for at least a month. If you show your face in the office he promises to make it three months." He leans in staring at me. "You better behave Sunshine."

"If the wound is superficial why do I need a month off?" A month? Really?

"I said shallow, not superficial. You've got 10 stiches holding you together."

"But why a month?" I whine. "Staying home with Brandi and Jinx will drive me to the hospital, but not the medical kind. Speaking of my so called family, where are they?" I crane my head trying to see if they are hiding in the hall or behind the curtain.

"I sent them home."

I flop back on my pillow and tilt my head to the ceiling. "There is a God!" Marshall gives me an odd look because I flinched after I said that. Of course there's a God otherwise I wouldn't be here, and neither would he.

"They'll be back during visiting hours tonight." He grins, but it's not a nice grin.

"Crap!" I'm not up to dealing with those two.

"C'mon Mare. You've been asleep or unconscious every time they've been here. Peter came with them and kept Jinx and Brandi from making a scene." He caresses my hand. "They're worried."

"Yeah, worried no one will pay the electric bill and they'll be sitting in the dark with an empty refrigerator."

"They're not that helpless."

Has he met my mother and sister? I glare at him.

"Okay so maybe they are. You can set your utilities and other bills to auto pay. You'll be getting your regular paycheck."

Autopay. Hmm. "Can you help me set it up? I'm a bit keyboard challenged at the moment."

"Sure. We could do it from my laptop before you even leave the hospital."

"Yeah, speaking of getting out of this torture chamber, when will that be?"

"It's not that bad Mare. You haven't been awake long enough for the nursing staff to hate you. They've got you on the good drugs."

I squint and glare at him. "Your idea of what's a good drug and mine are very different."

"I know, I know. It would ruin your tough broad image to actually take the painkillers. That's why they are putting them in your IV. Your surgeon will be by sometime today. After he's checked you out he will tell you when you can go home."

In the silence that follows I give him the once over. "Marshall, as good it is to see you, I gotta say you look like hell. Go home, get some sleep, okay? I'll be fine."

Marshall looks at me fondly. What in the world does he see in me? He leans in and I grab his shirt and pull him toward me. My lips find his and I kiss him. Not a peck on the cheek, a real honest to god kiss. Or as much as I can manage in my current condition. Marshall loses his balance and puts his hand on the other side of me. We come up for air and Marshall and I lock gazes.

"Thanks Marshall," My voice is husky and not from of the trachea tube. I let go of his shirt. He brushes his hand against his lips as if archiving the kiss. Then he straightens his shirt and pats my hand.

"I'll be back Sunshine. Don't threaten the staff. They do actually have your life in their hands." He tries to smirk but is defeated by the dazed look in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." I smile as I watch him leave the room and follow him as far as I can. What is that feeling? Is that the meds they have me on? Oh crap! I miss him. He just left and I miss him. What the hell? Follow my heart. Is this following my heart?

A nurse comes in, checks my wound and my vitals and lowers the bed. "Do you have a mirror? I want to see why I'm stuck here." She looks puzzled. "I want to see the surgeon's handiwork, okay?"

"I'll bring a hand mirror next time we change your dressing. Right now you need to rest Ms. Shannon. Close your eyes and sleep. The food cart will wake you before you know it." She straightens my sheets, does something with the IV then takes one last look at the monitors and leaves. I close my eyes and the next thing I know, lunch, such as it is, is being delivered.

The nurse was right. The damn food trolley might as well be a truck blaring muzak. I rouse at the noise and adjust the bed so I'm sitting. That hardly hurt at all. Maybe I can get out of here soon. A tray is brought into my room and put on the rolling table. Do they hide the food under those little covers so it won't scare the patients?

I've managed to fork in something that looks like meatloaf. It comes with mashed potatoes which aren't half bad. Even the hospital can't mess those up. Just as I'm eyeing the tan colored gelatinous cup of mystery glop I hear Jinx, and then Brandi. I push the tray away and steel myself for their visit.

The best defense is a good offense. "Hi Ma. What have you been doing?"

Jinx huffs and fusses staightening my covers. "What do you think I've been doing? I've been worried sick about you!" She fluffs a pillow that didn't need fluffing. "I see they brought your lunch. Is there something we could get? Some snack or something?" She's really trying and she isn't shrieking.

Brandi sports a tremulous smile. Maybe it's hit her that I'm not going to live forever. "How are you feeling Mare?"

Like I've been shot! I bite my tongue. "Been better but it's not bad. I haven't talked to the doc yet."

"Do you know how long you'll be here?" Brandi! Didn't I just say I haven't heard from the doc yet?

"Maybe a couple of days." At least I hope it will be a couple of days. "Did you come right from work?"

"Umm yeah. Peter wanted to come but there was a big fleet sale going down." She brings her hand out from behind her back. "Peter sent these. He got them at People's Flowers and when the owner heard they were for you, he wouldn't let Peter pay for them. He even threw in this pretty vase." Brandi looks around. "I didn't know you knew a florist," she murmurs.

"You'd be surprised the people I know in this town." And she would. Of course most of them are criminals.

Brandi takes the vase in search of water so it's Jinx' turn. "Oh Sweetpea. I hate to see you hurt."

"I'm not a fan either, Ma." There are subtle differences in Jinx this lifetime. She's not as self centered as I remember. She seems to care.

"No of course you aren't. Your surgery took forever," she announces dramatically. There's the Jinx I know. "Poor Marshall, he stayed with us the entire time. I could tell he was dead tired – _don't say dead_ _ma!_ \- but he was too distraught to sleep."

"Distraught? What's with the $3 words?"

She nervously smooths the sheet near my arm. "Well it's the only word that describes how he looked. Honestly Mary, his eyes were bloodshot and red. I never saw him do it but he must have been crying. He's so thoughtful. He even brought us coffee and offered to get dinner." She's smiling gently. "Your partner cares about you Mary."

Yeah Ma, tell me something I don't know. Wait? Did I ever hear how Marshall reacted to my shooting in my other life? I don't remember seeing him visiting me in the hospital, but every morning when the sun came up I swear I could smell his aftershave.

"Marshall stayed here last night, right?" I remember hearing him talking but I thought it was a dream.

Brandi nods. "He made us go home and promised to call us if your condition changed. This morning he texted that you were awake"

It doesn't take much for me to be tired. I start yawning and Jinx and Brandi for once in their lives take the hint. "Try and get some sleep Sweetpea." I had dreaded their visit but it wasn't that bad. Had they changed, or was it me? They don't aggravate me the way they used to. Maybe it's the drugs.

Alone at last I lower the bed and close my eyes.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for the review Meg!


	8. Recovering

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 8

Recovering

 _MARY POV_

The rattle of the breakfast cart and the smell of toast wakes me up. Groaning I rotate my head trying to ease the kink in my neck. Then I really wake up - to a world of pain. Ah hell. Yesterday I didn't hurt like this. I clench my lips and squinch my eyes.

"Mare? Mare?"

I know that voice. "Marsh" is all I manage to get out.

"What's wrong?"

I grimace and spit out, "hurts."

I open my eyes a sliver and see Marshall's finger on the call button. I inhale and exhale deeply trying to distract myself from the stabbing pain. At last, the squeak of shoes on the shiny floor signals the arrival of a nurse, a Florence Nightingale with something to take away the pain.

"She's in pain! What can you give her for it?" Poor Marshall. I realize that my pain is his pain, just as his is mine.

I hear rustling near my head. "Before I put this in your IV, Mary, I need to check your wound, see it it's infected. I'm sorry but this is more accurate if I do it while you can feel where it hurts." Shit! I wanted to see the stitches but I sure as hell don't want anyone touching it. I brace myself as she peels back the bandage.

"Looks good." I open my eyes and see her fiddling with the IV. "There." She leans in and I can feel her warmth before I see her face. "I'm going to change your dressing. I've put meds in your IV and you should have some relief soon. After all you wouldn't want to miss your fabulous hospital breakfast."

So young, so cynical. I like it. But she's right about the meds. The pain tapers off and soon it's gone and so is she. Breakfast arrives and Marshall helps me raise the bed so I can eat.

It's almost edible. I'm starved so I manage to choke down the dry scrambled eggs and the cardboardey toast. _Is cardboardey a word?_ When Marshall sees my hands shake he holds the juice cup so the straw finally finds my mouth. I want coffee but whatever they'd serve here wouldn't be worth drinking. After the first few mouthfuls I squint at him. "Have you eaten?" That scarecrow is too damn scrawny.

He's sitting in one of those uncomfortable chairs made to accommodate a pod person, but not a lanky geek. "I'll get something from the cafeteria. I'm good."

"No you're not."

I root out the call button and push it. "Can you bring my friend here a breakfast tray? He's been here all night and you wouldn't want him fainting and hitting his head. Those injury lawsuits can be so bad for the hospital's image." The young girl leaves the room but not before giving Marshall a big smile. Sheesh. She might as well bat her eyelashes too. Marshall's polite but he's not dead. I know he noticed. These eggs aren't great but why are they making my gut burn?

Marshall smiles and thanks her as he takes the tray. He gives me a curious look as he balances the tray on his knees. "You must really be out of it Mare. It's not like you to share food."

"If I have to suffer with this slop, you do too." I sniff around a forkful of scrambled eggs. "Besides, I'm not sharing. I got you your own tray." By the time I'm done Marshall is almost finished. He's a big man and needs more than that. I'll throw him out soon so he can get a real breakfast. I close my eyes and lean back, lowering the bed. "Woof. I feel like I haven't eaten in a year!"

"I'm glad to see your appetite's returning. It means you're on the road to recovery since you're willing to ingest hospital food and threaten the staff."

"If I'm stuck here much longer you can bring me a burger. Please?" I bat my eyes at him. "I could use some real food." The please startles him. As much as I'd like to continue baiting him, my eyes close without my permission.

"I think breakfast wore you out, Sunshine," he whispers piling his tray on top of mine. "I've got to get to the office. Nap now while you've got the chance. Jinx and Brandi will be here later. Sweet dreams, Sunshine."

I groan and my head lolls to the side. I'm already half asleep. I feel the heat from his body and smell his aftershave right before I feel his lips on my forehead. "Rest Sunshine. I'll be back tonight."

"Kay." If I had any energy I'd pull him closer for a real kiss.

Hours later I'm tempted to fake sleep when Brandi and Jinx arrive. I knew visiting hours started because it got noisier. Brandi and Jinx come carrying a white paper bag. "How are you feeling Sweetpea?"

I raise the bed so I can see them. "Okay. Ready to go home."

"Did the doctor say when you'd be released?" Jinx asked.

"Umm, depends on how the wound looks. I haven't seen the doc today yet." Mom fusses with my covers and chatters about her dance students. Brandi tells me about the cars she's sold.

Peter shows up after an hour of tiresome small talk and herds them out. He's definitely one of my favorite people. The visit wasn't that bad – better than I recalled from my other life where Jinx whined that my being in the hospital inconvenienced her. Brandi even brought me a muffin. Once they're gone I find the tv control that was sticking me in my uninjured side. So that's the source of my pain, not them. I turn the tv on and let Oprah and Jerry and Dr. Phil lull me to sleep.

After an early dinner of meatloaf and mashed potatoes – I ordered double mashed potatoes – Marshall arrives. I look him over carefully. He must have gone home and changed and showered. Despite the bags under his eyes he looks better. He really is a sight for sore eyes. "Hey."

He takes my hand, sweetly uncertain despite the kiss we shared yesterday. Does he think I only kissed him because I was drugged? "Hey yourself. What did the doctor say?" I'm tempted to pull him closer but I'll give him some space. _Slow, Mary, take it slow. Don't scare him off._

Oh yeah, the doc. He stopped by after Jinx and Brandi left. I frown and cross my arms over my chest.

Standing next to the bed, Marshall has it all figured out. "I take it you're not going home anytime soon."

"Damn nosey bossy busy body. Just because I got a little graze he wants to keep me another couple of days."

Marshall smiles his big crocodile smile. "By tomorrow the staff will be begging him to send you home."

"Damn straight." I sigh and put my head back, checking the ceiling. "Although I don't know if I'll be ready for the Shannon show any time soon. Mom and Brandi mean well, I get that. It's just . . . ."

"That you'll have to rely on them for sustenance," he declares, "and everything else."

"Hell no. They already had me walking the halls flashing the patients. I can take care of myself."

"Yes, Dr. Shannon's medical expertise is based on her four year medical degree and considerable experience." Marshall pontificates sarcastically.

"No one knows this body like I do. I've had it all my life!" I retort.

Marshall smirks. We're at an impasse. I know what I shouldn't say, but I can't help myself, I blurt. "I heard you."

His face blanches and I know he knows what I mean. I heard him during that hazy time before, or was it right after the surgery? Was there more? What did I miss?

"What? When?"

I peer into his troubled eyes. "When I came to the first time. You were there, talking and talking and talking. I didn't open my eyes but I heard you."

Marshall swallows and looks away. Oh my God. Despite that kiss he thinks I'm going to tease him. He's right. In my previous life I would have.

I take his hand and stroke my thumb over his. "Hey. I love you too partner."

"Mare." I grip his hand encouragingly and pull him closer. He clears his throat uncertain. "I want you to be my partner in everything, not just work."

Oooo, he's being brave. Guess in this lifetime I hadn't worked as hard at scaring him away. "Are you sure I'm the one you want? You know me. I'm bitchy and selfish and crass and . . . . "

He interrupts. "You are quick thinking, brave and loyal. You've saved my life time and again. You've stuck with your mother and sister despite their shortcomings."

Shortcomings. Leave it to Marshall to sugar coat it. "Face it Marshall, all Shannon women have terrible taste in men. That's why it took me so long time to realize how I feel about you. You're different from any man I've ever been with. I didn't know what I was feeling." _If you only knew partner. It wasn't till you had found the perfect wife that I knew I loved you, needed you._ I cup his cheek stroking softly. "You are the kindest, smartest, bravest, most thoughtful man I've ever known. You deserve better. I'm damaged and angry and . . . ."

"Hey!" His hands direct my face to him. "Don't I get a say in this?"

Aargh. I'm doing it again. Trying to get him to march to my drummer. I watch those bright blue eyes. "Uh, Sure."

"I have never ever met a woman like you Mary Shannon. You are one of a kind, and in my book, that's a good thing. And as for men." I snort. "You don't get that other men don't get you. Don't deserve you. I get you Mary Shannon. And you," he lowers his lips to mine, "get me."

Breaking the kiss I turn my head so he can't see the tears in my eyes. He'd better not think it's the drugs talking. This good, brave, intelligent, handsome man is so much better than I deserve. "No one deserves to be stuck with a crabby bitch who has no filter between her brain and her mouth."

"You're honest, Mare. Honest to a fault. People know where they stand with you. You give our witnesses the unvarnished truth and starting from there they can make a realistic assessment of the changes they have to make – with no illusions, no embellishments, no presumptions."

Now he's holds my face in his hands. I have to tell him how I feel even if my throat is too clogged to speak. Is this following my heart?

"Despite your rough edges, you do everything you can to make your witnesses lives meaningful even after they testify. Look how you rescued Chris Worley when he got caught in that betting scandal."

I know we got Chris out of a jam and arrested the sleaze ball who messed with him but what I really remember in all too much detail is Dana and Marshall doing the horizontal mambo in my car. I wouldn't think they'd fit let alone get it on in such a small space. At the time I told myself I was upset because they were using my car, but that wasn't it. Not at all. I inhale slowly and exhale, tallying up all the good Marshall has done.

"I've done nothing you haven't done. Joey Tancredi ring a bell? Your own time, hell, your own dime spent to accompany an old mobster to his son's funeral? I don't see that anywhere in the WitSec regs. Marshall, you're smart and courageous with enough empathy to cover the globe. You could get any woman you want." He rears back and looks at me as if I've been smoking crack. "I don't deserve you." My eyes are full of unshed tears. "But you're the man I want." It only took me two lifetimes to figure this out, but dammit, this time I'm doing it right.

Marshall bends down and gives me a sweet chaste kiss. "We'll talk about this when you get out of here. We can make it work. You'll see." The last thing I want to do is take it slow, but my body has other ideas. Our faces still close, I kiss him again.

"Okay."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to my lone reviewer, Meg!


	9. Home Again, Home Again

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 9

Home Again Home Again

 _MARY POV_

After two more interminable days in the hospital, of being woken up, poked and prodded, the doc released me. The aftercare instructions were thick enough to be an owner's manual. Marshall came with Brandi and Jinx to spring me. He listened attentively to everything the nurse said. Brandi and Jinx listened too but my stomach is queasy at the thought of them touching my wound although Brandi did a good job with Raph's knee.

Marshall's truck was easier to get into so they wheeled me to the door and I went with him. Brandi and Jinx followed us home. I thought Raph would make an appearance while I was in the hospital. Did anyone tell him I was shot? Is he angry? Maybe he went to see his mother in the Dominican Republic. Whatever. I'm too tired to worry about it. That part of my life is over.

When we arrive home I rotate to get out of the passenger seat but Marshall is standing in the way.

"Move it, Doofus! I'm going to step on you."

"The doc said to take it easy. Stepping down will stretch your stitches and I'm not going back to the hospital today. Let me carry you."

"Hell no." When I see his face I relent and allow him to put his arm around my waist. Lucky for him the stitches don't go that far down. I'm panting by the time we get to my bedroom. "Why in the hell does getting into bed take so much energy?" As Marshall is taking off my shoes I hear Jinx and Brandi in the hall. I flop back and pull the sheet over me.

He heads them off at the doorway. "The trip home wore her out. Why don't we let her sleep?" He closes the door and relative silence descends. Well a silence of the relatives. Oh my God, puns! I must still have drugs in my system. One more thing to do before I can rest. "Dear Holy Mother, please thank your son for keeping me alive and keeping Marshall unharmed. I know your miraculous intervention made it so. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen."

Wouldn't want God to think I'm ungrateful. Sore, yes, but still grateful. The shooting turned into a chance for Marshall and I to become closer. I still don't understand why he wants to be with me. I'm like a burr under his saddle, a constant irritant. Why would he want that?

I know why I want him. He's an honorable man working in a position of dubious morality. Despite that, his soul and his reputation are unsullied, pure. That doesn't mean he's naive or weak. In both mind and body he's the strongest man I know. And he'll be a wonderful father. That's the last thing I remember before falling asleep. For the rest of that day and the next my naps are interrupted only by Jinx or Brandi bearing soup or jello.

When the weekend comes, Marshall takes me on a road trip – to his house for the day. Brandi was actually a good nurse. She bit her lip and drew a pained breath when she changed my bandage, but she did it and never hurt me, much. After the first time Jinx couldn't even watch. I suppose I'd have a hard time seeing Norah hurting. Never thought of myself as one of Jinx's babies.

I sit in the SUV in his driveway while Marshall opens up his place and took in my go bag, just in case. I had managed to stand long enough to pack it. Woowee! My great accomplishment for the week! The plan was to give me an afternoon out, a change of scenery. This is my chance to talk to Marshall about becoming us. We're not getting any younger and this time I'm determined not to waste any time.

"Let's get you in the house, Sunshine."

I grumble. "I thought the purpose of this trip was to get me out of the house."

I let him get the car door. Let him? Who am I kidding? Even now, days later, leaning that far would have painfully pulled the incision. Marshall places his arm under my good arm and I watch my feet to make sure I don't trip. I feel like a baby learning to walk. Tears fill my eyes and I sniff wetly as I remember Norah learning to walk. Marshall thinks I'm in pain.

"I've got your pain meds in the house. When was the last time you took one?"

"Umm, I don't remember. This morning?"

"That sounds about right. I'll check Brandi's note but you can probably take more now. Let's get you settled." We go through his living room, heading for the bedrooms.

"No Marsh – not the bedroom. Can't I sit out here?" The recliner is beckoning. Anything but bed, please. I've spent too much time in bed, alone.

He sees me eyeing the recliner. "How about this? It's comfortable."

I can't resist teasing him. "Sleep there often do you?"

Marshall grins. "Sometimes."

"You just want to stick me somewhere and know I can't escape. I won't be able to get out of that!"

"Just bellow, Sunshine. I'll bring you whatever you need." If I know Marshall he's prepared for my visit – food, drink, a walker maybe. He's always been the thoughtful one.

I sink back into the recliner and look around. There's so much memorabilia in this room – photos, medals, rocks. Only Marshall would collect rocks, but then he minored in geology. Wait! How did I know that? Oh yeah, Abigail told me when we were chasing the car thieves, the time she drove into a bullet. Did Marshall ever tell me?

"Hey Marsh!" He's gone down the hall for some last minute primping.

"What do you need Mare?"

"What's with the rocks?"

He's wearing big yellow industrial rubber gloves. When I raise an eyebrow at his choice of gloves he says, "Last minute sanitizing. Don't want you catching anything. I've got your pain meds in my pocket. Want one now?"

I shake my head. I don't need one now. He goes into the kitchen and tosses the gloves into the sink. I could eat off his toilet and it would be cleaner than my kitchen. "So, the rocks?"

"Well Miss Nosybuttons, if you must know, I minored in geology." I can tell he's expecting some snarky comments about getting his rocks off.

"Did you do a lot of traveling to collect these, or are they mostly local?" He's taken aback but pleased at my interest.

Marshall walks over to a shadow box with several rocks, some quite sparkly. "I found most of these growing up. Whenever we went on vacation I hunted for interesting specimens. These came from Texas, Colorado and Montana.

He hands me the box. "They're kind of pretty. Especially that one." I'm pointing to a sparkly blue stone.

"That's a sapphire from Montana. Sapphire's are relatively easy to find there." Aw, look at that. Marshall's preening. Sweet man.

"How long does it take you to dust all this stuff?"

"Eh, not long. I have hospital grade filters on the ventilation system. Keeps the place clean." Of course he does.

"What's that?" I point to a frame on the wall.

He returns the shadow box to it's place and takes down a framed certificate. "This is a commendation from the President to my great great grandfather." Fifth generation marshal. Yup.

I peer at the fragile gold leafed paper carefully preserved under glass. "Is that. . .is that Teddy Roosevelt's signature?"

"It certainly is," he declares proudly.

"Wow! How did you end up with it? Didn't your Dad want that piece of history?"

"He's not the sentimental type. Mom got it framed but couldn't find a spot for it. She knew I would take good care of it so she gave it to me for my birthday." Birthday? Oh crap. Did I miss it? I haven't met Seth yet in this lifetime, but Marshall's right. His father is hard headed and unemotional. So different from his caring son.

Marshall loves to share what he's learned. Here's my chance to get him talking and learn about his family, his childhood, his interests. "Tell me about everything in this room."

He perches on the wide stuffed arm of the recliner, crowding me just a bit, but away from my wound. "The leather for this recliner came from a hand fed cow. . . ."

I punch him.

"Ow!" He fakes injury. "You said you wanted to know…"

"Not that stuff. Your family stuff. The history things and stuff that you found or collected or discovered. Like that picture of a little boy on a pony. Is that you? How old were you there?"

We spend the afternoon exploring that one room. I never appreciated the breadth of Marshall's hobbies. Rocks, riding, literature, art. Most things focus on the west. Marshall loves the west with its cowboys and ranches and ranges. Even his family photos have a western theme.

I fall asleep in the recliner, listening to him drone on. Some company I am. The smell of something yummy wakes me up. "Marsh. What are you doing?"

"Making a late lunch, early dinner. Glazed pork chops, baked beans, and green salad. Sound good?"

"Yeah." I'm trapped in recliner heaven till he comes to get me. We move slowly to his kitchen where I sit gingerly. A bowl of salad and a plate with a gorgeous chop, beans, applesauce and a roll sit before me. "You made this?"

"Yeah. It's the recommended post-surgery diet." He points to each item as he talks. "The roll is whole grain. It, the salad and the applesauce provide fiber. The pork is lean protein and the beans are carbohydrates. They'll all help you heal Mare."

I am so touched by the lengths this man has gone to for me. I start sniffing to hold back my tears and scare the bejezzus out of him.

"Mare? What's wrong? Are you in pain? Tell me what you need."

When I don't answer right away, he gets up and puts his arm around my shaking shoulders. "Mare? What hurts?" I shake my head my throat too full to speak. "Nothing," I croak.

"Then why the tears?"

I point at him.

"Me? What did I do to make you cry? I'll stop. Just tell me."

I turn and caress his face. "You. You are so good to me." I wanted to say more, but I was too choked up.

"Aw Mare. I want you to get better. I need my partner." He stands and goes back to his chair. "Now eat up. Chef Mann's culinary masterpiece is to be enjoyed."

I get control of myself, _must be the drugs_ , and we spend the rest of the meal in muted camaraderie. Then it's time to go home. Back at my house I get my second wind. The meal and the nap helped a lot.

We're in my living room and I don't want him to go. Jinx and Brandi greet us then make themselves scarce. I put my good arm around his neck and pull his head down to mine. "I love you Marshall Mann."

I pull back to see how he took my declaration. "You don't believe me." He's stunned. He doesn't believe I love him.

I get up and rush out of the living room. Rush, ha! Meaning I move slightly faster than a ruptured snail, faster than I have since getting out of the hospital. Marshall follows me.

"Hey, take it easy Mare. You'll hurt yourself. Where are you going?"

"To get proof." I call over my shoulder.

In my bedroom I squat gingerly and pull out the small box in the bottom of my closet. I'm glad now that I didn't follow my first instinct and throw the crap out. Marshall steadies me when I wobble standing up. We sit side by side on my bed and I hand him the box.

"What's this?"

"Like I said, proof. Open it."

I watch his face as he opens the box. Like me, when he first sees the ticket stubs and wrappers he thinks it's trash. As he takes each item out and examines it his expression changes to wonder.

"You saved this?" He's waving the brochure from the art museum. "You complained the entire time!"

I drop my head, embarrassed. "I wasn't complaining. I was letting you know what I thought."

"You thought it was crap!"

"Yeah well, I did at the time, but after I thought about what you said I began to see some of what you saw. So I kept the brochure. It reminded me of you, us. Despite what you think I had a good time."

Marshall picks up the wrapper from the low-carb non-fat burrito and laughed. "You said this tasted like dryer lint!"

I sway my head from side to side. "Yeah I did, but it was your dryer lint, your attempt to get me to eat healthier. You cared enough about me to want me to stay healthy by eating better. I got that."

"And this?" He's holding the ticket from the foreign language movie he dragged me to.

I sigh. "I know. No car chases, no gratuitous violence, subtitles, not my kind of movie." I carefully turn my whole torso to face him. "But it's your kind of movie. A movie of ideas and emotion, a sort of love conquers all thing. God Marshall. I want that for us."

Marshall faces me and puts his hands on either side of my face. "Us? You really want there to be an us? In the hospital I was sure that was the meds speaking."

Then he's kissing the daylights out of me. That man can kiss. I can't wait to see what else he can do.

"Marsh? Marshall!" He's hyperventilating and I don't want him to pass out. "This isn't a one off. I want this to be, for us to be a forever thing. I know my track record is pretty crappy so I think we should take this slow." Actually I don't think that. I want to jump his bones, peel off those jeans and enjoy the goodies God gave him. But my body needs slow and so does he. He needs to know he can trust me with his heart.

Marshall shakes his head. "All those years you teased me and made rude comments about anything and everything I did. What was I supposed to think?"

I turn back slowly and try putting my elbows on my knees. "Remember when you were in fifth grade and the girls were discovering kissing and boys thought they had cooties? How could a girl let a boy know she liked him?" He's lost. I'm talking about something outside his experience. "By punching him! Kissing was taboo, but if a girl made contact," I punch his bicep gently, "she was expressing her interest."

Marshall's looking at me like I'm crazy. Then he gets it. "Is that what you did?"

"Uh huh."

He stares at me trying to figure out what in the hell kind of person I am.

"Told you I was a crazy bitch." This is his last chance to realize what he's getting himself into and get the hell out of here.

Instead of running away as fast as he can, Marshall carefully hugs me. "But you're my crazy bitch and I wouldn't want you any other way."

* * *

A/N: Just because they're together doesn't mean the story's over. Not by a long shot.


	10. Catching the shooter

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 10

Catching the Shooter

 _MARY POV_

I had another week recuperating while that doofus Marshall went to work and had all the fun. I did try to cheer me up. He brought dinner most nights and when Brandi and Jinx were gone we could talk about work. I made an appointment with Shelley Finkel. Talking to shrinks ranks just above getting shot. When I get her to declare me fit for duty and the doc removes the stitches I can get recertified and be a real Inspector again. I pestered Stan until he agreed to let me come to the office as long as I stayed in the office.

After three weeks I expected the office to look a little different, but not this different. Who were those people wandering around? More Inspectors? How did they fit their desks in the space Marshall and I used to fill? Stan is happy to see me and tried for a welcoming hug but stopped when I glared at him. He knows how much I appreciate being touched. He herds me into his office where I hope to get some answers.

I see an empty desk in front of his office. That's my first question as I lower myself into his visitor chair. "OK Stan. What did you do with Eleanor? Did you gang up on her and drum her out of the old boys club? And who are all those guys?"

Stan settles behind his desk and shrugs sadly. "They closed the Phoenix WitSec office and the powers that be relocated some of their Inspectors here. As for Eleanor, if you hadn't managed to drive her away, Marshall and I wouldn't. She got a job at the FBI as an analyst."

I open my eyes wide and inhale sharply. "Do analysts get guns?" That was my reaction last time and Stan would expect me to say something like that.

Stan looks up and motions Marshall to join us. "You better hope not. She could come back and hunt you down."

"Seriously Stan how can I contact her?" I don't want to lose touch this time. Eleanor is as close as I come to a live BFF.

Stan looks at me strangely. "You two fought like cats and dogs and now that she's gone you want to talk to her? Promise me you aren't going to call just to piss her off."

"I promise. In a strange way I respect her. She never knuckled under. Now Doofus," Marshall's sitting next to me so I make him 'oof' by elbowing his ribs, "is the only one I get to spar with." So Eleanor left this time too. She and her contacts are too good to lose. If she's not too far away I can drive to see her.

Stan's cautious. "Let me make sure she wants to hear from you. I'll ask her to call you. Okay?"

"Oookay." So protective! Stan knows where she is and has her personal information too? Marshall always said there was something between those two. I couldn't tell but maybe it was the thought of Stan in a romantic setting – ew—that stood in the way. Now that Marshall and I are more than partners we'll have to make sure no one suspects our extracurricular activities. With all the new bodies and new eyes in the office we will have to be extra careful, otherwise Stan might have to split us up. I'm not about to lose the best partner I've ever had and I know Stan isn't as oblivious as he pretends.

"Have you made an appointment with Shelley?" Stan asks.

"Yeah, she's got an opening tomorrow. Since I'm stuck on desk duty I figured that would be a good time."

Stan nods his approval. "You need to requalify with your Glock too. You okay to shoot?"

"Doc said I was all clear." I didn't ask about shooting but the doc knows I'm law enforcement so he wouldn't have cleared me if it wasn't okay. Right? Time to change the subject. "What's happening with my shooter?"

Stan sighs. "You know that ball is in ABQPD's court. I haven't heard of any new leads."

"Do you have the police reports? Can I see them?" Stan roots through the pile of folders on his desk and finds one. He holds it just out of reach. "You've already given them a statement?"

"Uh huh. Bobby D took it at the hospital. Is it in here?"

"Yeah." He hands over a thin file. "Good to have you back Mary."

Marshall and I stand, ready to leave. "You're just tired of listening to Marshall." I hip check Marshall as we both try to go through the door at the same time. Marshall frowns at me. I smirk and make a kissy face Stan can't see. I now know the best way of shutting up Marshallpedia. The smile he's sporting must mean he's remembering the last time we kissed. Too bad I can't do that in the office. Teasing him about it is almost as good.

When I get back to my desk it has a cup of coffee and a pastry. I salute Marshall with the Danish then turn my attention to the police report. It's weird. This time around I know who the shooter is. It's the same pudgy Viper as before, Carmello. How do I convince Marshall? Has he been visiting Lala?

"Marsh? You got a minute?"

Marshall looks up. "Sure."

"I read the police reports and I want to run through the events as you remember them. Maybe between the two of us we can find a lead." I tilt my head toward the conference room. Once we're sitting at the table with the reports and photos spread out I sit next to him and drop my bomb. "I saw the shooter Marshall. I can see him in my mind, but it's sort of fuzzy. Is that how it was after you were shot?"

"Uh uh." What's with him? Why does he look guilty?

"No?" This shooting was different? "I don't plan on making a habit of getting shot. So you're telling me every time is different?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean? How was your shooting different?"

He sighs and looks somber. "When I was shot my best friend dragged me out of the firefight and planned to kill Lola's entire crew rather than let me die. My best friend got me to the medics and saved my life and arrested the shooter, and his crew. Your best friend let you get shot instead of him and didn't get the shooter!"

"Marshall." I've never seen him so worked up. "You didn't **let** me get shot. I saw a pudgy guy in a green shirt raise his gun and aim at you. I couldn't let him shoot you. It's my job to have your back. You're my best friend, my partner and now" my voice drops to just above a whisper, "you are more than that."

Marshall's far from convinced. "But it's okay if he shoots you? No Mare. No. That's not how this works."

He's got a point, but what am I supposed to do? "Okay. You tell me. How does this work?"

Marshall puts his head down and runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. We shouldn't have been there. I should have fought to stay put. We should have certified Day as insane."

"I should have shot Day's balls off first thing." He's on my despicable list, right after Faber.

Marshall smirks. "That might have helped." He leans closer to me and whispers, "Mare, I won't survive if you don't. If you love me, you have to be careful."

I turn and we are nose to nose, kissing distance. "Duh! Why do you think I wore a vest and made you wear one? It wasn't a fashion statement."

"Yes! That's exactly why you should have let him shoot me. I could have taken the shot. The vest would have taken the shot." Marshall's certain. Me? Not so much.

"You think that low life scum is some sort of expert marksman? It looked like he was aiming for your head. The vest wouldn't have helped you then. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk you."

Marshall's brain has finally checked in and bested his emotions. "Wait, you said a pudgy guy in a green shirt?"

"Yeah he was wearing a green team uniform type shirt. He was a big guy, fat, not tall. I jumped when I saw him raising his gun."

"Green huh? That's the Cinco Vipers. Why would there be a Cinco Viper in Lala's territory?" That's it Marshall. Put the facts together and come up with Carmello. He looks off into the distance, working through his hypothesis. "Peddling drugs is the way they make money. Gang wars scare off customers – bad for business. Maybe they're working on a truce. If they agreed on splitting the territory the junkies could make their buys without getting caught in the crossfire. Let me check with ABQPD. Maybe their gang task force has heard peace palaver."

"If it was the Vipers who would they send? An enforcer or one of the bosses?" I really don't want him hanging around the LEOs without me. I don't know when Abigail will show up and I don't want to take any chances. I have to give Roxanne a call. We sort of bonded after our televised catfight when she accused my witness of killing her partner. We're not BFFs but in a case like this it could help to fill her in and get some feedback.

When I tune back in Marshall's talking about the socioeconomics of gangs. "I think they could send either one but you only saw one guy wearing Viper colors?"

A sudden sharp pain in my side makes me groan. I try to cover it with a cough but it's too late, dammit. I know Marshall heard it. He gives me a haughty stare. "I don't believe the doctor recommended working so long your first day back Sunshine."

I leave Marshall to gather up the file while I go to my desk and grab the pain meds, swallowing them dry. I turn to Marshall and glare. "You talked the doc into keeping me longer."

"No, you were in the hospital as long as you needed to be to heal." I don't believe a word.

Marshall coughs into his hand. "I may have mentioned that you are a workaholic in a demanding job and if he doesn't want his handiwork ripped apart the first day you're released he should make certain you are fully healed before turning you loose."

"Bastard!" I'm still catching my breath from the stabbing pain so there's little heat in my epithet.

"Mare," he starts gently. "If I care about you enough to convince you to eat a healthy diet why wouldn't I care enough to make sure you are healed before being tossed into an emotionally and physically demanding job that is challenging for a healthy adult in prime condition let alone someone who was shot three weeks ago?"

Stan has heard our discussion and wanders over to my desk. "Go home Inspector."

"But Stan," I whine.

Stan smooths his tie, and begins talking, his voice low. "Mary, almost losing you has brought certain feelings to the surface, feelings for you that I've hidden. . . ."

"That's low Stan." I have to give him credit. This works as well as it did last time.

"Well played Stan!" Marshall chuckles. "I'll make sure she gets home."

I wish he meant his home. I sleep better there. I have yet to remove the taint of my failed relationship with Raph from my own bed. Besides, Marshall's recliner keeps me from accidently turning on my injured side. But it's time to face the music. Time to go home.

Tomorrow we'll visit Lala and figure out that my shooter is Carmello. He's got a piece of my lead in him and I want it back.


	11. Tiny Glass Dancers

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 11

Tiny Glass Dancers

 _MARY POV_

Marshall had been visiting Lala. We went together the next morning and got Lala to blink when I mentioned Carmello. We got his address, and backup. As last time Carmello came out of the house in his bathrobe holding a yippy dog. "Hey Carmello! Remember me? You're kind of a pudgy letdown. Sweet limp. Did someone shoot at you and miss your balls. Oh, that's right you don't have any. I got this."

"Got what?" Marshall teased. "He's going to fall down any minute. Are you sure you're not auditioning for the movie Geriatric Marshal?"

Finally I tackled the bastard. Landed right on top of that sweaty glob of disgusting male still holding that yappy dog. "I swear if I popped a stitch I'm going to shove that dog up your ass and let him bark his way up your throat."

Then there was the crisis with Jimmy and his sons. Getting Jimmy squared away took most of the night so Marshall gave me a ride home. I hated to admit it, but I was tired.

In my old life Jinx made my shooting all about her and that just pissed me off. Now that I've been a mother I can empathize with her fear for me, her child, but so help me if Jinx and Brandi are only concerned with losing their meal ticket, I'll toss them out on their rears faster than a speeding ticket. This time I'll start the 'discussion.' I faced down Jimmy Porter and he had a gun but Jinx only needs words to wound.

I'm sitting in Marshall's truck in front of my house trying to figure out how to play this. I'm churning through past talks with Jinx to find a place to start. How can I be proactive instead of reacting to her attacks? Marshall sits waiting patiently, silently. Seeing my hesitation, he catches my eye, "You want back up?"

I shake my head and give him a watery smile. "Nyah. I've got to do this, but thanks for the offer. I appreciate it." I appreciate too that he didn't ask if I NEEDED backup. He trusts me to handle things. I never realized the many ways he acknowledged my abilities.

"Da nada."

I give him a kiss on the cheek, thanking him for the ride. "I'll call you later. You can help me get rid of the bodies." I gather my bag and my courage and step out into the dark of night like a prisoner going to a firing squad. _C'mon Shannon. It doesn't have to be that bad._ This time around I can keep it civil. I know what she's gonna say. Maybe I can set the tone by congratulating her for staying sober? Yeah, let's give that a shot.

As I unlock the door and walk in I wonder what happened in my other life. Did Marshall die? Why did Abigail bomb out of his hospital room? This isn't the time to search for those answers. If there even are answers.

Jinx is in the living room. "Hey Ma, I'm home." I can't blame Jimmy for trying to kill the guy that beat his son. If anyone hurt Norah I'd kill make sure they suffered.

"Sweetpea!" She approaches, hands fluttering, wanting to hug but hesitant on two counts – my wound, and my aversion to being touched. "You shouldn't be working such long hours. Can't you come home earlier? Your body's still healing."

Huh? Jinx is actually acknowledging that I'm the injured party? Is that what real mothers do? If she's going to be the mother, I can be the daughter. I give her a careful hug, and feel her stiffen at such a blatant display of affection before gingerly hugging back. Score one for Mary.

"I'm just taking it slow Ma. Takes me a lot more time to do the usual stuff." _Running after my shooter. Watching my witness's son fight for his life after being beaten half to death. Talking my armed witness out of shooting the guy who almost killed his son. No, Ma, nothing strenuous._

We both ignore the muted tv. I step back and put a hand on each of Jinx's shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "I know this has been hard on you and Brandi too. The doc says I'm as good as new." _Well I'll be as good as new when my wound stops seeping and I can qualify with my left hand. "_ But I'm okay now. Really."

"Mary," her eyes are full of tears and fear. "You need to give yourself time to heal." She looks down and shakes her head. "I thought you were drinking coffee at the court house. I never thought you would be shot." _Yeah Ma? And what kind of coffee was Marshall drinking when he got shot?_ "Isn't there something else you can do, something not so dangerous?"

"It took me years of hard work to become a marshal, Ma." I knew this was coming, but I have to make her understand. Being a marshal is who I am -hmm- just like being a dancer is who she is.

"I know. I've never seen you so determined. When you took the test I thought that would be the end of it."

"You thought I wouldn't make it." Even my own mother didn't have any confidence in me. Nothing new there.

"Well, yes. I never knew a woman who became a cop, or a marshal. You'd never done anything like that." She's wringing her hands and her voice is rough as if she's been crying.

"But it's what I wanted. I knew what I had to do, and I did it. I studied and trained so I would pass the physical and the written test." I drop my hands.

Jinx shudders. "I remember when you got that gun. I hate that gun."

I love my Glock. I'd take it over diamonds any time. It's safety, security and power. I'll never get her to understand that, so I borrow a lecture from Marshall. "A gun is a tool – like a knife. A knife can cut your steak, or cut you. In the right hands it can save lives. That's what I do – save lives. Remember all the time I spent at the shooting range?"

Jinx smiles, chagrined. "I thought that was so you could go out with that sleazy Johnathon." Her mouth puckers as if tasting something sour.

I laugh. "You've got me confused with Brandi, Ma. Every time I told you I was going to the range or to the track I did. I had to practice to get accepted. Besides studying and training for the marshal exam I was still finishing my BA. I was too busy for Johnathon who I already knew was a sleazeball."

Mom drops her head and confesses, "When you left for training in Georgia I thought you'd never come back. You were gone for 6 months! You never wrote – not so much as a post card!"

"As I remember you said I was being stubborn." _And selfish, but I'm not bringing that up now._ "Given what I see here," I turn and point to her glass ballerinas in display cubes. "I got that stubbornness, that dedication, from you."

Jinx smiles and acknowledges the possibility that what I've said is true. "Maybe. I still wish you'd picked something less dangerous."

I take her hand and look into her eyes. "My job is as dangerous as crossing the street." She's skeptical. "90 people a day are killed in car crashes. Yet we think nothing of getting in a car and driving to the grocery store. It's a risk we're willing to take. Being a marshal has risks, but I'm trained to handle them." Wait till I tell Marshall I actually used some of his statistical trivia.

We walk over to her trophies. "When I was little, I thought these were your dolls. It wasn't till I was older that I read the inscriptions." I take her hand and turn toward her. "I'm sure winning those took a lot of determination and talent. I'm so sorry Ma."

She gives me a questioning look, not understanding. "I was in my 20's when I figured out that the last one of these is dated the year before I was born. Getting pregnant with me ended your dance career."

Jinx sniffs and shrugs. "You can't change the past." If only she knew that's exactly what I'm doing – changing the past so Marshall doesn't die.

"Ma, I'm sorry getting pregnant with me stopped you from being a dancer."

Jinx shakes her head and looks at her hands. "Until I met your father I never thought about children. He convinced me that life as a ballerina was too difficult. He didn't think I had the dedication, the single mindedness it takes to succeed. You have that."

I always thought Jinx was weak, undisciplined, silly. I never appreciated the sacrifices she made when she became a mother. "I bet back then there weren't many woman who were mothers and had a full-time career."

She nods. "You're right. Either you were a mother or you had a career. I never knew a woman who did both. When you were born you took all my time and energy. I thought I had the most wonderful husband because your father changed your diapers once in a while." She barks sarcastically. "I thought a few dirty diapers put him in a class above all others. Ha!"

"I didn't know that." I always thought Daddy and I had a special bond but I didn't know it started when I was a baby.

She sniffs and wipes her eyes. "He even fed you. When he was winning he was generous and thoughtful. He used to bring ice cream and help with the dishes and laundry. He bought you a small broom and the two of you would sweep the sidewalks."

Enough about Daddy. He's a dead end. "Tell me about these." I point to the glass ballerinas. "How did you get them?"

To me they were annoying baubles that required dusting. I didn't understand what they meant. Tonight I hear her story of the young girl who fell in love with ballet, who spent long hours practicing, who had an instructor who nurtured her.

"I bet you would have won more competitions if your parents could have driven you."

She shakes her head unconvinced. I take her hand and lead her over to the couch diving for the remote so she doesn't see Francesca on the news. _Raph said Francesca had been in the waiting room with Jinx and Brandi. Jinx doesn't need to know who she is._ We sit and I let her stew about her lost career.

"I'm proud of you Ma." That gets her attention. "You've been sober for months now. It can't be easy, but you're doing it."

"I should have done it a long time ago – when you girls were little. I wasn't much of a mother to you two." She sniffs and smiles tremulously. "That's why your sister thinks limes are lemons that haven't ripened." She chuckles. We sit in silence.

Jinx sighs then sits up straighter. "I think it's time I moved out."

"Really Ma?"

"If I get the job with the dance studio – that's looking really good – I can get my own place." She takes my face in her hands. "I worry about you all alone, Sweetpea. If you and Raph were still together we'd be planning your wedding. You'd have everything you ever wanted."

I squint and smirk at her. "Really Ma? Do you think I wanted a Prince Charming more beautiful than me to trip down the aisle to eternal happiness? You don't really believe that, do you?"

Jinx exhales. "I can't see you in a traditional church wedding. But don't you want to be married? To have a life mate? To have children?"

She would have to mention children. In my old life I never wanted them. This time I know what I'm missing. I can't tell Jinx about Marshall yet. It's too soon, and I can't trust her to keep it to herself till we can smooth things over with Stan.

I turn and look at Jinx. "I do want children Ma. I want to see the dancing grandma." She smiles at that. "Before I was focused on my job, my career. Now that I'm established, it's not enough. I do want a life partner, maybe even marriage." I smirk a half smile. "What are the chances I can find a man who can stand to be around me?"

"Well," she responds coyly. "You already have a partner, Marshall." Damn is she really that perceptive? Marshall and I had been joined at the hip since my shooting. Is that what she's noticed?

Elbows on my knees, I avoid agreeing. "The Marshal Service frowns on romantic relationships between partners. They claim it messes with our judgement." _Which is bullshit. I always had my partner's back even without a full-fledged romantic relationship._

"So," Jinx chatters, "Do you love him?"

I look away wistfully. How can I embroider the truth without spilling the beans. Maybe it's time to spill the beans. "I dunno Ma. It's different. This isn't the way I felt about Raph, or Mark. That was all lust. I don't feel that way about Marshall, but I do feel something."

I look into her eyes. "He's different. He doesn't dictate what he wants for us, he already knows what I want. I know he wants to settle down, start a family, and I'm not quite ready Ma but I will be." _It took me another life time to see Marshall for who he is and can be - kind, generous, smart, geeky, funny, a loyal husband and dedicated father._

Jinx doesn't squeal but her smile goes from ear to ear. "I know you will Sweetpea."

* * *

A/N: Chapter 10 was posted from my hospital bed because I didn't want to disappoint my loyal fans Meg and Jojo. I'm home now.


	12. Comotose to Celebration

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 12

From Comatose to Celebration

 _MARY POV_

Sheesh! Allison Pierson was supposed to be heading back to her bat cave. I couldn't wait to lose 150 lbs. of bureaucrat. Marshall and I had spent days setting up facial recognition displays, explanations of security breaches and the necessity of relocation, stuff I could do with Pierson while chained to a desk. We selected a variety of witnesses for her to visit - not just the nice ones. All that planning went down the drain when Wade Trimball, my least troublesome witness woke up from his three year nap.

And it had to happen the day I got my handgun proficiency results and was totally cleared for field work.

Since Wade is the prosecution's only witness in the trial of Jasper Owens Malone, Wade, my witness, became Pierson's priority. At least this time around my personal life is less complicated. No Raph, no visit from his Aunt, no wedding plans imploding. Just Marshall and I taking it slow and keeping it private.

As before, Wade slipped his leash and drugged his minders so he could get to El Paso to see his old girlfriend, Krysta. As we drove to intercept him Marshall could tell I was worked up about something.

"Mare?"

"What?"

"What's bothering you?"

"You mean besides the fact that my witness drugged two US Marshals, escaped and is about to confront his former girlfriend and his former partner in an explosive menage a trois which will result in mayhem or murder?"

Marshall keeps on driving, intent on getting there before Wade. "Normally I'd suggest we contact the local PD so you could rant with spectacular venom about the incompetence of the local constabulary, putting you in the stage I call post rant relief, but I sense there's something else going on with you. Is everything okay? Are **we** okay?"

Dear sweet man. His voice wobbles with worry. He thinks he screwed up. Nope, not him. That would be me. It was during this case that Raph finally saw the light and broke up with me. Despite it being in a life that doesn't exist anymore my emotions are twisted into a Gordian knot.

I knew Raph and I were wrong for each another. He persisted and I kept trying but all that did was irritate Raph, and aggravate me. I didn't need his budgets and wedding plans. The fact that I wasn't interested in the wedding should have been a huge clue that I was marrying the wrong man. This time I know the right man, I just don't know how it's going to work.

I exhale and turn to Marshall. "We're okay. I'm a mess."

"Why? What's the problem?" He keeps his eyes on the road.

"All this drama with Wade and Krista and Dustin. I've never sustained a serious romantic relationship and Wade is unconscious for years and still loves her. How can that be? Could I do that? It looks like she still loves him but she'll never leave her baby and husband." I wring my hands and watch his profile. "How do I keep from screwing this, us, up?"

"Mare, everyone screws up."

I tap his bicep with my fist. "That's not helpful!"

He fakes a grimace then smiles. "The important thing is to forgive one another. Even more important, you have to forgive yourself, trust yourself."

"That's just it Marshall, I don't trust me. All you have to do is look at my past relationships."

"What about our relationship? We fight, we bicker, we tease, but I know you have my back, and I have yours. Being a couple is an extension of what we've always had as partners." He glances at me quickly. "Let's make a deal. Will you tell me when you're scared? Will you trust me to love you and to believe that you love me? I promise I'll do the same. You are my one in seven billion Mary Shannon. There is no one like you in this world and you are the only one for me."

"Why? Why do you love me? How can you love me?" Since Daddy left, I was sure I didn't deserve love.

Marshall smiles fondly, never taking his foot off the gas or his eyes off the road. "I knew from that first look."

I don't answer because we've arrived at Krista's house and we are diving out of the car heading for the cloud of dust that is Wade and Dustin trading punches. I need Marshall's help pulling Wade off. We get them separated and I take Wade aside.

"I know it's hard waking up in a world where your work partner and your life partner have moved on. Believe me, I understand you feel as if your heart has been ripped from your chest and run over by a Mac truck. But three years have passed, and during that time they have changed. You can't go back, you can only go forward. The best revenge is to learn to live and love without them."

I am such a hypocrite because I have gone back. I have been given a second chance to know my heart and follow it. In my former life I stayed engaged to Raph because my biological clock wanted a man. My body wanted children, my mind refused. This time both parts are missing Norah and wanting a baby. All I need to do is get Marshall on board but we haven't even had sex, and I am definitely looking forward to that.

After getting Wade back to Albuquerque I go to Allison and grovel until she arranges for Krista to talk to Wade before he testifies. Because he still loves her his testimony doesn't ruin Dustin's career or break up Krista's family. After the trial Marshall and I are relieved to turn Wade over to his new marshals.

As we watch Wade walk away, Marshall cocks an eyebrow. "We need to celebrate the successful denouement of this case and your return to full Inspector field status. How about a relaxing dinner?"

I push my lip out and tilt my head. "Don't say denouement," I tease and nod my head agreeing to dinner. "I could eat."

"Says the omnivore who will devour any item vaguely edible."

I glare at him. "Omnivore?"

Marshall snorts. He's knows me and free food "An omnivore eats both plant and . . . ." he starts to explain.

I punch him in the arm before he can finish. "I know what an omnivore is, Doofus. And you're wrong. I'm not a total omnivore. I won't eat those slimy slug things. They fancy them up calling them escargot so unsuspecting diners don't realize that they're really eating snails."

"Ooo la la." Marshall enthuses, raising his hand, little finger extended. "Escargot es magnifique. Clarified butter, garlic, a little thyme."

"Forget it. You're not getting me to eat snails. And even without the shell I can recognize the little slime balls. Keep them to yourself."

"We shall see mon petit chou." We're in the parking structure next to my car. "Go home and change into something nice," Marshall orders. I cock an eyebrow at him wondering what he has up his sleeve. "I'll pick you up at 7." He smiles mysteriously.

Brandi's convertible is in the driveway. I open the door and yell, "Squish!" Despite her choice of the black sequin corset for Treena's slutfest, I trust her fashion sense more than mine. This is too important.

Brandi wanders out of the kitchen cupcake in hand. "Hey Mary. Peter had some cupcakes left over from a staff meeting. Want one?"

"No, thanks. I'm going out to dinner." I grab her arm and hustle her into my bedroom. "Help me find something nice to wear."

She's licking the frosting off her fingers. "Nice? What kind of nice? You got a date? With who?"

I plant her in front of my closet and head for the bathroom yelling over my shoulder. "Nice restaurant nice." When I get out of the bathroom Brandi has laid out my black dress with the plunging neckline front and back, black heels and a clutch. Oh yeah. I remember that one. I wore it to the art gallery opening. Dershowitz said I was hot. Perfect!

By the time I get my dress and shoes on, the doorbell is ringing. "I'll get it," Brandi yells. Of course she will. I haven't told her who's my date. I fluff my hair and settle it over the nonexistent back of the dress, put my holdout in my clutch and check myself in the mirror.

"Hey Marshall. C'mon in. Mary's almost ready."

Uh oh. Brandi and Marshall? Not a good combination. Brandi knows too many of my embarrassing secrets. Marshall doesn't need to know I can be a total idiot. _Does he know I was married to Mark?_ I put my Glock in the thigh holster and now I'm ready!

I turn to leave my bedroom but can't because my idiot sister is blocking the doorway. She has a black hair tie in her hand and she spins me around, gathering my hair into a low ponytail. Then she turns me and pulls out tendrils around my face. "Brandi!" I hate having hair blowing in my face but I don't have time to redo it. "Sexy," she says. "One more thing." She goes rooting through my jewelry box and comes up with a dollar sized medallion on a long chain. "There," she concludes. "Now when he's looking at your boobs he's got an excuse."

I don't know whether to kiss or kill her, but I squeeze her just the same. "Thanks Squish."

I watch Marshall's face as I get my wrap and am pleased to see the approving sparkle in his eyes. "I always liked that dress on you. If taking you out to dinner is the only way I get to see it, we are going out frequently!"

I duck my head and give him the once over. He's wearing a western cut jacket and silver bolo in lieu of a tie. This is what passes for formal dress in Albuquerque. "You look pretty good yourself Marshall. Is that the bespoke suit you ordered?"

He preens with delight that I noticed. "It is, it is." He reaches for my wrap and settles it over my shoulders, his fingers trace my collarbone making me shiver.

At the restaurant Marshall puts his hand on my lower back as we follow the waiter to our table. Antiquities is a fancy steakhouse, beef at its best. He does know what I like. After the waiter seats us I snark "Trying to impress me Inspector Mann?"

He unsticks his eyes from my cleavage and hides behind the wine list. "Nope. Just seemed like the right place to celebrate your return to active duty. Besides I know places like this don't impress Mary Shannon." He's still pretending to be engrossed in the wine list but I can tell he's sneaking peeks at my boobs.

"So, if you know me so well, what does impress me?"

He ignores my question. "You're having steak, right?"

"Uh huh."

He closes the wine list and lies it flat on the table. "You are impressed by loyalty, courage, and boldness."

"Oh I am, am I?"

"Take tonight. I boldly invited you to dinner without giving you what Emily Post considers adequate notice."

The waiter appears and Marshall orders wine. When the waiter asks about appetizers Marshall whispers his selection. Before we can continue our conversation the sommelier brings his wine selection, offers Marshall a sip and when he approves pours. We clink glasses in a toast. I've barely tasted the wine when the waiter brings out a plate of shells and disgusting snot knots. Of course Marshall tries to get me to eat one.

"Marshall!" I whine. "Keep those slugs on your side of the table. Yuck!" He keeps pushing a forkful of the slimy things toward me. I push back. "C'mon Marshall. Stop fooling around. No food fights or they're going to throw us out!"

Marshall puts his fork down and grins sexily over his wineglass. "You wanna fool around? I thought we'd save that for dessert."

Thankfully the server arrives with my petite filet and his New York strip and conversation ends for a while. I catch Marshall watching as I savoring the last bite of beef with a sip of cabernet. The flavors complimenting each other just right. He reaches out and takes my hand. "I do love a woman who enjoys her beef. It would break my cowboy heart to fall in love with a vegetarian."

"Then it's a good thing I'm a carnivore." I flash my choppers at him. He does look good enough to eat. "He really loves her you know." That comment has nothing to do with dinner but it's a decent segue into discussing us.

"Who? Wade?" he asks. I nod and sip my wine. "Is that how you knew having Wade and Krysta talk would get him to change his testimony?"

"It was worth a shot, even if I did have to grovel to Allison to arrange it."

"You? Grovel?" he said sharply followed by a muttered "Wish I could have seen THAT."

"Ow!" Marshall puts his wine down quickly. "You kicked me?"

"You're wearing boots it didn't hurt that much." I was sure the boots protected his ankles. "Did it?" I don't want to hurt him.

"Nyah," he admits, so I kick him again. His glare is part pout.

I hold my glass up. "You should have seen the prosecuting attorney when Allison told her "I've spoken to the Attorney General and this has to happen with your permission or your resignation."

"No wonder you were willing to grovel. She's your idol!"

I frown at him. "Is not." But I'm not too forceful in my denial. Arrogance used in my favor? I could take that.

"How did you know Wade still loved her?" Marshall peers over his wine glass.

"He said Krysta was the only thing that mattered. I made him see that if that's true, he couldn't destroy her marriage. I think she still loves him but she'd never be unfaithful."

"How sadly romantic. True love foiled by unusual circumstance." Marshall sighs.

"Wade said he knew she was the one with the first look." Despite what Marshall had said in the car on the way to Krysta's I thought he would agree with me that love at first sight was silly, but instead he looks thoughtful.

He locks his gaze on me. "It was the same for me. I knew. I knew the first time I saw you in that FTF war room. There you were, the only female, more macho than any guy in the room. I knew you were the one."

"You mean when I was chasing Carson Miller in Boston?" I hadn't had a shower in days. I remember feeling gross, all sweaty and greasy.

"Yeah, then." He looks at me dreamily. How much wine has he had?

"Marshall! You introduced yourself and I made fun of your name. I not only disrespected you, I disparaged your job, WimpSec. Remember? I was a total bitch."

Marshall chuckles. "So? That hasn't changed. You made a lasting impression Sunshine. I've been enamored of you ever since."

I roll my eyes and shake my head. "Don't say enamored."

He ignores me. "Claudia and Henry's love survived and ours will too. You just have to give it a chance, give us a chance. Can you do that?"

I reach across the table and take his hand, smiling. "You are a glutton for punishment, Mr. Sade."

"Being with you is not punishment!" Marshall takes care of the check. We hold hands leaving the restaurant. When we get to his truck he brings my fingers to his mouth, kissing them. "Come home with me?"

"Um." The touch of his lips has my whole body tingling. "Okay." What will it be like to really kiss him? To feel his skin on mine? My body reminds me it's been way too long since I had sex. Somehow I know it won't be just sex with Marshall. I'm ready for some up close and personal time with Marshal Marshall Mann.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to Meg and everyone who is following this story.


	13. Faber Fails

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 13

 _MARY POV_

Faber Fails

Marshall and I had spent the day coddling my least favorite witnesses. Marshall insists on coming along when I check on my most combative witnesses. I had to fight for my place on the Fugitive Task Force. Even when I did the job they didn't think I could. From the beginning Marshall treated me as an equal, and I could tell he enjoyed my company. I knew I could count on him to have my back especially when dealing with dicey characters. "Hey Marsh."

"Um hum?"

"We're close to my place. How about picking up dinner and eating there?" Brandi is living with Peter and mom just moved out.

"Dinner sounds good but do you have beer?" Marshall knew that I couldn't have alcohol in the house with Jinx in AA.

"Yes I do Miss Priss. I restocked my liquor cabinet and picked up some local craft beer when Jinx moved out. So there!" I know he likes trying the local brews and I hadn't been home long enough to touch the stuff. We'd eaten out or at his place almost every night the last couple of weeks. After our fancy celebratory dinner we took turns providing dinner. Dinner always made me think of our first time at his place although I've known Marshall so long it wasn't like any other first time.

 _*FLASHBACK*_

We barely got in the door when Marshall cradled my face between his hands so his lips could work their magic. He broke the kiss so we could do that other important thing - breathing. "So that's your plan Marshal Mann? Fancy restaurant, fine wine and now you think I owe you a roll in the hay?"

That stopped Marshall dead in his tracks. Crap. So not my intention. "Marsh," I cupped his cheek, "Doofus, I'm teasing." I put my arms around his neck. "I'm ready. I want this as much as you do. Even without the dinner and the wine, I'd be here, with you."

He recovered quickly. "Gold digger! Now you tell me. You just want me to spend money on you," he teases.

I tickle the hair on the back of his neck. "Yup, that's me. I'm out to drain every cent out of you." He laughs.

"So you're the one who arranged with payroll to subtract the rounded pennies from my checks?"

I put my lips on his neck and murmur, "Forget the pennies. How about picking up where we left off?" He pulls away staring at me to see if I'm telling the truth. I move my lips closer to his till they join like magnets. They do say opposites attract, and you can hardly get more opposite than Marshall and me. That's what kept me from seeing what was right in front of me in my former life.

Locked in an embrace we stumble our way to his bedroom, losing his jacket, his shirt and my heels along the way. I was sitting on his bed, working on his pants when he knelt down, running his hands up my legs, murmuring his approval of the Glock on my thigh. "I had no idea you thought I was so dangerous."

"Dangerous? I was protecting you from being molested by those harpies at the restaurant. They couldn't take their eyes off you."

"Moi?" He's kissing my thighs, alternating right and left. "You were the one attracting all the attention."

Finally he was pantless and I had room to maneuver. He's so tall even his king sized bed is barely long enough, but we managed. Another thing I liked about the black dress - it came off easily. I laid back and he hovered over me. I scanned his broad chest, wincing at the bullet hole from Lola. He watched me. I let him look, but cringed when he focused on my latest scar. When he kissed it inch by inch I felt cherished, not damaged. Marshall is a generous lover and I spent the night on my new favorite hobby - mapping every erotic zone on his muscular body.

The next morning, I was propped up on one elbow watching him sleep. I see his eyeballs move behind his eyelids. Even with his eyes closed he knows I'm watching. I lean over to kiss him when his eyes fly open and he jerks awake with a deer in the headlights look. Oh no. Does he regret last night? But his horror isn't focused on me. He's looking behind me pointing at. . . . What is he pointing at? Oh, the box of condoms on the nightstand.

He sits up and wipes the sleep out of his eyes. "Mare, I'm sorry." He's stricken. "We didn't use any protection last night. That's never happened before. I always . . . ."

"Marshall!" I put my finger to his lips. "Do you regret last night?"

He looks at me as if I'm crazy. "No, never." He pulls me close letting me rest on his chest.

"I don't either. That's all that matters. Even if I was on the pill and we used a condom the only birth control that's 100% effective is abstinence, and" I snuggle closer, letting him know I approve "after last night I'm not about to do that. I hope you aren't either."

"But. . . . it wasn't disrespect Mare. It was the opposite. Last night I was finally making love to the woman of my dreams. There was no room in my little brain for anything else."

"Little brain, huh? Not so little." I reach down and give him a squeeze.

"Uh Mare, not now." He scrambles to throw off the sheet and get out of bed. I watch his sexy backside as he strides to the bathroom. When he gets back I showed him some 'respect.'

 _*END FLASHBACK*_

The next couple of times we ended up at my place. Marshall brought over a change of clothes and a box of condoms. He took over the dresser and closet space vacated by Raph. I felt like trailer trash – with a revolving door (or drawer) for my lovers. But with Marshall it's different, and this time around so am I. He wants the forever kind of relationship, a family, and this time I'm not afraid. I want it too.

It's only been a few weeks so we haven't told Stan. Jinx and Brandi suspect, but I haven't said anything. We were all set to tell Stan when the FBI's most annoying agent, Mike Faber, called on Witness Protection for his informant and his family. Denver here we come.

At the FBI offices we meet Magic Mike who lays out the case he's built using information provided by Earl Donaldson. I remember that Faber made every mistake possible and his informant almost paid for Faber's stupidity with his life. I doubt this time will be different, but I'll be ready when Earl disappears. I tell him, "If you want him safe and in WitSec you need to admit what you did and tell him you were wrong."

Marshall and I have seen this before. "First of all, when you tell Earl he and his family need witness protection he'll be in shock and the shock will take the form of denial. The only thing that will shake him out of that and get him where he needs to be is the truth." Mike ignores our advice but provides 'dinner' - burgers from the diner around the corner. Marshall must be starved because he digs into his right away. For some reason, I'm not that hungry. We arrange to meet Faber and his witness tomorrow.

The next morning at the park's coffee cart I try to explain to Faber what he's done wrong. Lying to your informant is unethical, and doesn't work. Earl underscores my point by demonstrating how little Faber knows about his personal life. Faber isn't his buddy. Faber only knows Earl's ability to get evidence. He's treated Earl as an information delivery machine.

Faber or the overwhelming smells of the coffee cart make me queasy. I don't remember that ever happening. Faber didn't have that effect on me the first time around. Could it be the coffee? Some weird imported crap? I put it on the small bar height table. It can be another adventure for Marshall's taste buds. He can be picky but he likes to expand his palate by trying different coffees and food.

Despite my warnings Faber tells Earl WitSec can provide all sorts of luxuries. I tell the witness the truth. "Everything Agent Faber just said is a lie. WitSec's not a game show. You didn't just win a vacation, there's no tee times or mints on the pillows or seats in the front of the plane. But what it is is preferable to death. It's nicer than being hunted like an animal or watching your family being tortured and butchered."

Faber accuses me of putting on an act. Earl has worked with him for years. How likely is he to believe me, someone he has just met? Marshall's watching, but lets me do all the talking. If the consequences weren't so dire I'm sure he'd consider it first rate entertainment.

I try to get through to Earl. "This is how it works. The people who don't get touched are the people with the power to hurt their enemies. Once you testify you give up all that power. There's no cards left to play, you're just a target. So what you need to become is a target who can't be found." Earl listens, but he's far from convinced.

Marshall takes care of the details. "Don't mention WitSec to your family. For security reasons we have to be there with you when you tell them."

Later we meet Faber outside the office. This time he's brought coffee. Marshall's got Faber's number. "I'm sensing a pattern here Agent Faber as primal as it is manipulative. You offer refreshments when you want something." What he wants is us to convince Earl that WitSec is the way to go.

As Marshall's buckling himself into the driver's seat, he observes, "That's the second time you didn't take the coffee. Is everything okay with you? It's not like you to turn down free coffee."

I grimace and shrug. "Consider the source."

"That never bothered you before. What's different now?"

I squirm toward the window, opening it, seeking fresh air. "It smelled funny. I don't know what he ordered, but it smelled weird."

"Is this," he gestures towards his coffee the cup holder, "bothering you?" Oh you dear man. Always so thoughtful.

"A little," I confess. Okay actually a lot but I don't feel like throwing up, yet. "It doesn't smell good." Oh God, coffee is my drug of choice. The only time it ever turned on me was when I was pregnant. Nyah. That can't be. Must be that chili burger from lunch. After the first time Marshall and I have been used protection. A tiny voice echoes in my head. _It only takes once. Remember Norah?_

We arrive at Earl's house, and just as I expected Earl has been kidnapped. We figure out where he had hidden the journal and get to the bank just in time to see him leave with his 'guards.' It turns into a messy public shootout just as I remembered. Marshall rescues the boy with the balloon. Faber and I take out the gunmen, and Earl flees to the safety of the FBI. It was kind of fun.

Being kidnapped convinced Earl that he and his family needed protection. The FBI took him home to pack. Marshall arranged for transport, but we weren't going to accompany them and we didn't need to know where.

With the gunmen in custody, the scene calmed as agents in dark blue FBI jackets swarmed outside the bank. Crime scene stuff is so not my thing. Marshall and I give our statements and I am ready to leave. I needed to hit the bathroom before we go. When I return Faber had cornered Marshall. I hung back listening.

"Is she seeing anyone?" Faber asks. Marshall frowns. Guess we're better at hiding our relationship than I thought. Can't have that! I walk up to Marshall and put my arm around his waist. He puts his arm over my shoulder and looks at me to answer.

"Yes, yes she is," I sass back. "She's with a man of integrity, intelligence and compassion - a bad ass lawman." I grin and look Marshall in the eyes.

Faber grimaces and directs his gaze at the ground. "Guess that's not me."

"Afraid not." He looks up. "Don't you have a wife and kid?" Faber startles at my question. "FBI aren't the only ones who can do background checks," I relate smugly. A background check didn't turn up that information. If Marshall asks I'll tell him I called Eleanor.

"Technically we're separated." Faber confirms.

Marshall has his possessive smile with a gleam of pride at my information gathering expertise. He knew about Faber's father, the minority whip, but I had the goods on Mike himself.

Faber may be a douchbag, but he isn't a bad guy. "Look, you don't want to be like your father. If you don't spend time with your son, nudge him in the right direction, he could turn out like his grandfather. Every kid needs a dad, and not just every other weekend."

Faber exhales dispiritedly. "You could be right."

"I know I am. He's your only son, your legacy, **kitten,** your responsibility. Spend time with him. Teens are complicated." I touch his arm. "Go be a dad, and maybe your wife will let you be a husband." I hope I got through to him this time too.

"Nice working with you Faber." Marshall offers his hand. He doesn't mean it but he's always polite.

Me, not so much. "Hope you learned something."

* * *

A/N: This is the last chapter I have completed. Medical issues have intruded big time. It may be a while before the next chapter is ready to post. Please be patient. Thanks.


	14. Boom!

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 14

Boom

 _MARY POV_

Anyone who is willing to testify in return for witness protection from those who want them dead is bound to be different. There's no template for WitSec witnesses and the next couple of witnesses defied any pattern.

Brandi is still working for Peter but she's been spending a lot of time on the computer and Facebook. I haven't had time to check further than that. Raph's back in town. He went to see his mother but returned and is working for Peter. If he gets the job coaching the Isotopes he'll be able to do that full time. He called the house when he knew I was out of the hospital.

"Mary?"

"Raph."

"I'm sorry I didn't call when you were in the hospital. I wasn't sure you'd want to talk to me."

"We can still be friends, Raph."

"I'm glad you feel that way. But I think it was for the best. We weren't a good fit."

I sigh. "Thanks Raph. I'm glad you understand."

"So, what are you doing today?"

"Marshall and I have a little down time. He's going to help me paint Jinx's old room. She's got a place of her own now."

He has a smile in his voice. "You and Marshall?"

"Uh, yeah." Is that really enough for him to conclude we're a couple?

"I'm happy for you Mary. You and Marshall are a better fit. I don't know what you two do but I know it's more than drinking coffee at the courthouse. He knows the job and can give you the support and understanding you need. I always knew he loved you."

"You did? Was I the only one who didn't get it?" How could I have been so blind? Or is it only in this lifetime where that's true?

"I think so. Good luck to you both."

"Thanks Raph. Don't be a stranger." A handsome guy like Raph isn't going to be alone for long.

* * *

Dominic DiFazzio was my first bomber but not my first psycho. For three months he was a nice quiet cooperative contract killer. Marshall thinks we're seeing change and growth. I know better. Bombing the hell out of things is Dominic's only way of dealing with disappointment. It took Marshall a while to see it but we couldn't convince Stan. His judgement was impaired by Theresa Simmons, the financial manager who reports to Allison Pierson.

Dominic came to me for dating advice. Boy did he pick the wrong person. Nothing I told him could convince him that bombing the hell out of things is not a socially acceptable solution. I have to save his new girlfriend, Naomi. I know Dom is going to rig a bomb at her store. Even in this life, he's the same.

Unable to convince Stan, Marshall and I head to Naomi's place to get her version of her date with Dom. On the way there. Marshall's driving but there's something bothering him. He glances at me and asks, "Okay, what?"

I've been thinking about my reaction to coffee. Could I be pregnant? Could it happen that quick? This time I'm five years younger than when I gave birth to Norah. That should be a plus. On the minus side, Marshall and I have just become a couple. Is it too soon to take such a major step? "What what?"

Marshall's not satisfied with that. "There's something you've been gnawing on all day."

I'm not ready to tell him yet. Besides I haven't even taken a pregnancy test. It could be something else. "No there's not." He's like a dog with a bone. Good God, Marshall. Give it up.

"There is." He insists.

What could he think is bothering me? "Like what?"

"I don't know. I just know there's something you're not telling me."

I am tempted to tell him but I don't want him to freak out. And what if I'm not pregnant? We'd get all riled up for nothing. "It's like you rent a room in my head."

"And somewhere in mine you occupy a small pied a terre."

Marshall and his fancy French. "Don't say pied a terre."

"We're allowed to close the doors now and then, so to speak but it can't last. You won't be able to hold out, you're going to blurt it out at some point. I'm giving you the chance now to blurt."

"Nothing happened," at least nothing I'm certain about. "No blurting. Okay?"

He's disappointed and far from convinced but the dear man gives in. "Okay."

Dom seemed to think I was Dear Abby, Dr. Phil and Emily Post all in one. I knew he was going to try to kill Naomi when she went back to her old boyfriend. This time I headed straight for her store giving me extra minutes to prevent her from setting off the bomb. Saved her and me some scrapes and bruises. The bomb squad had a blast. With the help of Dom's cousin we tracked him down so now he'll have lifetime room and board courtesy of the Feds.

Days later Marshall's still keeping an eye on me, checking for odd behavior. I don't think he's seen me duck into the bathroom to upchuck. I've got to get a pregnancy test! He's bound to notice me ditching my morning coffee.

My next witness had more in common with my father than I was comfortable with. He was a bank robber who had gotten a raw deal. The world had changed while he was in prison so he had no idea I was able to track him through his cell phone. That's how I discovered that he was trying to help his old partner who'd fallen in with younger robbers.

My relationship with him was better than my relationship with my father. Despite his jail time he's a man who keeps his promises. Unlike my father who promised me the moon and stars but left me with a hole in my heart. His partner died, but he set a trap for the robbers and we got them all. No one was hurt and he went on his merry way to a normal life. I hope he stays that way. I think he will.

I'd finally bought the pregnancy test, well tests. I got three. Then I spent a day getting up the nerve to take the damn tests. How will I feel if it's negative? Relieved, sad? If it's positive I'll have to tell Marshall. I'm used to being responsible for myself, doing things alone, but this involves him. He should be there when I take the tests. Yeah, maybe tonight after dinner.

"Hey Marsh?"

He raises his head from the benefits forms he'd been filling out. We've decided to make each other our primary beneficiaries. "My place for dinner?"

He wrinkles his nose. "No offence Mare but you're home cookin' leaves a lot to be desired. How about my place?"

That won't work I'm not hauling three pregnancy tests to his place. Think Mary think. Aha!

"How about meatloaf and mashed potatoes?"

He's still giving me the hairy eyeball. "Not mine, Doofus. Annie's Country Kitchen."

He perks up, onboard with that idea and points at me. "I'll place our order and pick it up at 6."

"Sounds good." That should work.

* * *

I've got the table set – real plates and napkins. Annie's meatloaf would soak through paper plates. Real napkins because tonight's special.

I hear Marshall's truck and scurry to open the door. Today's been a pretty good day. Some nausea but not bad. The meatloaf Marshall's carting actually smells good. I take one of the bags from him and stand on my toes prompting him for a kiss. He gives me a quick smooch.

His voice is warm and gravelly. "Let's get this on the table and then we can have a proper greeting." Once the bags are down I get my arms around him and hug him tight. "Mare, Mare," he whispers. "What's making you nervous? You've been sitting on whatever this is all week. You know you can tell me anything."

Shit I was going to do this after dinner, but I can't wait. I pull back and duck my head. "I, uh, I think I might be pregnant. I bought three pregnancy tests and I can take them now?" By the time I finish I'm hyperventilating. Marshall is holding me and running his fingers through my hair trying to calm me.

"See that wasn't so bad." He's a lot calmer than I thought he'd be. Good. One of us should be calm. "You want to do the tests now, before dinner?"

I nod into his chest. "I've been waiting all day. I just need to know – one way or the other." The uncertainty has been killing me. I want to trust my gut, but this is too important. I need proof.

"You go get the tests, do your thing and I'll put dinner in the oven to keep warm. The tests should only take a few minutes, right?"

I nod again, nervous, worried, not sure how to feel, what to think.

"Scoot. I'll come join you so we can wait and watch together." He lifts my chin up. "Okay?"

I exhale, "Yeah."

Heading for the bathroom I know this is going to be the night that changes everything. Positive or negative, just the necessity for the test is changing our relationship. After our first time he used a condom every time, but I never got my birth control prescription filled. Something always came up to derail my trip to the pharmacy.

Once I use the little sticks I open the door so Marshall can join me. The white wands controlling our future are lined up on the sink waiting to register their verdict. I'm leaning against the wall across from the sink, timing them. Marshall stands next to me and I swear neither of us breathes for the next ten minutes.

It's actually only three minutes when two faint pink lines begin to appear on the first one. The next one just says the word 'pregnant.' I like that. No chance to misinterpret that. The last one has a blue cross or plus sign. Oh God. Three out of three, has to be. I'm afraid to look at Marshall but I have to know. "What do you think of that, stud?"

Marshall looks stunned. He isn't looking at me when he asks, "Mare, how do you feel about this? Having a baby together is a huge committment."

I study his face. He's not upset, but I didn't think he would be. "I'm happy, worried, excited and scared. You?"

Marshall giggles and squeezes me, half dancing, half jumping up and down. "Really? You want this?"

I capture his gaze and say as sincerely as I can, "More than you'll ever know."

* * *

A/N: This is where the story diverges from canon in a major way. How will Mary take to pregnancy this time? When do they tell Stan? Any complications? What about Jinx and Brandi? Does Mary meet Marshall's mom? Thanks for reading! Reviews are nice too.


	15. Baby Daddy

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 15

 _Baby Daddy_

 _MARY POV_

Pregnant.

The room fades but the word echoes around me. Had some consortium of pregnancy test manufacturers decided to make me the butt of a cosmic joke?

Pregnant. I'm in a blinding white cloud like when Marshall died and the I got sent to this lifetime. Am I going back? That would mean being with Norah, and Marshall marrying Abigail. The light dims and the walls, the windows and the furniture of the house reappear.

"Mare."

"Mary."

"Mare!"

"What? Marshall?" He has his hands on my shoulders, gently shaking me. I'm standing, eyes unfocused thinking about what having a baby means in this life. There's no Joanna Stuber. It isn't Mark's baby so there's no reason for her to come. Who can I trust to take care of the baby? Will I be able to go back to work? Will I want to?

You're putting the cart way before the horse Shannon. First things first - getting this baby born. This time I know how many things can go wrong. Positive pregnancy test does not equal baby. I'll need to keep an eye on my blood pressure. Do I own a blood pressure cuff? No caffeine. As if I could stomach the stuff. Lots of protein. Exercise! Do those stupid Kegels to keep the pelvic floor limber. I snicker. Bet Marshall doesn't think I know what the pelvic floor is. Nursery furniture, diapers, baby clothes. I feel dizzy thinking of all the things a baby needs.

"Mare. Mare? Mary." Marshall sounds as if he's been calling my name for a while. I can tell he thinks I'm scared, and the truth is I am, but I'm also excited. "Sunshine. Humans have been gestating and bringing forth offspring for thousands of years. We'll figure it out."

Knowing a few of the millions of details that have to go just right before we have a baby I raise my face surprised to feel my cheeks wet. "Will we?"

"Of course we will. You are the most courageous woman I know. You are loyal and resourceful and you've got moi, Mr. Pregnancy." He beams goofily pretending to hold suspenders. "We've got my family, your family." Jinx did relish being a grandma. "Seriously Mare. This is our first pregnancy," FIRST? He says that as if he's sure there are going to be more. My eyes look away as I do the math. He's right. There's time. We could have more than one. I know Marshall grew up with brothers. Brandi has been a pain in the ass, I'd do anything for her, protect her any way I can. So yeah, first pregnancy. Maybe.

"Oh Mary." Marshall enfolds me in his arms. "I didn't mean to scare you. If this is our only baby that's more than I have dreamed of. You're right." I smile at him. Of course I'm right! "We need to take this one day at a time, one baby at a time." He gives me a slow sweet convincing kiss.

"Uh yeah." I don't know if it's the hormones or Marshall's kissing but I'm dizzy. "We could have more than one." I didn't think his smile could get any bigger, but it does. Does he want to catch up to his brothers? They each have a couple of kids.

"Ultimately, it's up to you, Sunshine. You're doing all the heavy lifting on this. I'll be here for every minute of pregnancy, labor and delivery, night time feedings, diaper changes, spit up. Whatever you need, I'm your man."

Our baby. Norah was mine. Biologically she was Marks, but I felt that she was mine and mine alone. The thought of sharing this baby, of her (or him) belonging to Marshall too is a foreign but oddly reassuring concept. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he smiles at me, reassuring me he is willing to fulfill my (our) every need.

"Move here with me." He takes a step back, scrutinizing my face.

"You're serious?"

"Damn straight. Move in with me." My eyes twinkle. "You can mop up vomit, cook nutritious meals, drive me to work when I get too fat to fit behind the wheel, take out the trash, do the dishes, entertain me." I give him a sideways wink. "Y'know, be my sex slave."

He's smiling and strokes his chin as if considering my offer. "Sex slave? How much do I have to pay for that position?"

I laugh and poke him. "Only you, Doofus, would be willing to pay to be a slave."

He envelops me in a hug. "Only your sex slave. No one else. Ever." He rotates us back and forth, a rocking motion that helps settle the grumbling in my stomach.

"I do have a place of my own, you know. Why don't we move there and put your house on the market?"

I snort. "Do you have a pool?"

"Uh no." I can see him trying to make the connection between a pool and pregnancy.

"Pregnant woman can swim even when they are whale size." I see the light go on. "The buoyancy of the water takes the weight." I remember that from being pregnant with Norah but he'll think I've been doing some heavy duty pregnancy research. My stomach growls.

"C'mon mama. You're eating for two now." Marshall whirls us around the kitchen.

"Marsh, stop. Marshall! I'm going to throw up." That got his attention. He stops and holds me letting the room and my stomach stabilize.

"Sorry Mare. You've got morning sickness, right? I've watched you hitting the head every morning and a few afternoons."

I tuck my head into his chest. "Morning, afternoon and night." I thought I kept my visits to the porcelain throne under the radar. "Do you think Stan noticed?"

He kisses me on the nose. "I don't think so. I always pay attention to you Sunshine. I thought it might be food poisoning. I considered pregnancy, but it didn't seem likely. We've been careful."

"Yeah, about that." I can't look at him. I have to confess now. I don't want him to think I'm trying to trap him. "This is probably my fault. They stopped my birth control pills in the hospital and I have the prescription but . . . ." I close my eyes, not wanting to see him reject me. Sure enough he pushes me away and studies my face. I'm hoping he'll think of some reason why I didn't go back on the pill.

"Why would you delay getting your prescription filled? Do the side effects bother you? Some women get headaches." He always knows when I have one. I'm bitchier than usual and often put my head down on my desk.

I nod. That's a good one. That will do. It's even true. Sometimes.

Finally we sit down to eat. Marshall doesn't seem to feel trapped. He's full of plans - moving, selling his place, selecting an obstetrician, telling Stan.

* * *

The following week we're at the office primed to tell Stan when our least favorite FBI agent interferes. Damn that man has terrible timing!

Yes it was Faber again with another would be witness. Natalie is willing to turn on her partners in a mortgage fraud scheme that was being used to fund gang purchases of drugs and weapons. She was a con artist. A damn good one. She even conned Faber.

Faber asks Stan for my help but I make it clear that Marshall and I are buy one get one free. I thought he was back with his wife and would give the kitten routine a rest. No such luck. After we bring Natalie in, Faber is back at my desk and I know from my other lifetime that he is working up the nerve to ask me out.

Marshall is giving him the hairy eyeball. I'm glaring across my desk and Marshall watches as my eyes grow big. He knows what that means and grabs a trash can. Faber thinks I'm succumbing to his charms and moves around my desk just in time for me to throw up on his shoes. Marshall cleans me up leaving Faber to take care of himself. I see Stan through the glass of his office stifling his guffaws. Faber finally gets the hint.

Once the vomit and Faber smell clears Marshall is on the phone. He hangs up and comes to sit on the edge of my desk. "We have an appointment tomorrow morning," he whispers.

"We do? With who?" Why would we have an appointment?

"Dr. Reese, your obstetrician." I know I need an obstetrician but I wasn't ready yet. And what gives him the right to make my appointment?

"So if _we_ have an appointment, does that mean you're coming too? Or are you referring to the pregnant we?" I keep my voice down.

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away." He's stroking the side of my hand with his pinky. An oddly intimate gesture.

I pull my hand away and run my fingers through my hair trying to figure out how I feel about Marshall taking the initiative on this. Is he trying to run my life? _Think Shannon._ What he's doing is helping, doing things you are too dazed to do. Oh I can do the job, it's the pregnancy stuff that has me flummoxed.

He picks me up the next morning and off we go to see Dr. Reese. She's an obstetrician that the Marshal Service has used and will disguise our names in her files. We're sitting in the waiting room and Mr. Pregnancy is going through all the magazines looking at the ads for the millions of items they try to sell first time parents.

"Mare! Look at this." He's thrusting a page of strollers in my face. The waiting room is full of women with beach balls under their tops and toddlers on the floor.

"Marshall! Stop it." I swat him with a rolled up magazine.

He pretends injury and offence. "Is that any way to treat your baby daddy?" he whispers hoarsely?

"Mary Shannon," the nurse calls. Marshall trails me into the warren of offices and exam rooms. The nurse directs me to the scale and Marshall stands behind me.

"Hey Mr. Nosybody. Back off!" He pretends to move back but I know he can still see the display on the scale. Oh what the hell. From there we proceed to an exam room and I get the obligatory paper gown. Marshall heads for the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Uh, I thought you'd want some privacy."

"Why? There's nothing you haven't seen before. C'mere. Help me with this." I'm half sitting on the exam table pointing to my boots.

"You're wish is my command!"

"Damn straight!" He gets the boots off and I wiggle my feet. "Now the jeans." He cocks an eye brow at me.

"Please?"

"Oh well, since you used the magic word. . . . "

I'm in the paper gown, sitting on the exam table when the doc comes in and asks the usual questions, last period, symptoms, etc. After that she asks if I'm ready for a transvaginal scan. She explains that there is little risk and it will help determine the gestational age of the baby. It's not long before there's a grainy black and white image on the screen with the whoosh whoosh of the baby's heartbeat.

Damn hormones. I'm crying and Marshall looks worried. I take his hand. "I'm happy Marshall. That little peanut in the oatmeal there is part you, part me. I'm happy, excited and scared."

"Why are you scared?" I give him an oh really glare. He knows as well as I that most miscarriages happen in the first trimester.

"Let's not borrow trouble," the doctor interjects. "The development is normal and the heart beat is strong. There's no reason to believe this baby won't develop normally. Your regular checkups will let us know how things are going in there."

She pats my hand and smiles at Marshall. "You can get dressed Mary. I'll have the aides print out the sonogram."

I sniff and wipe my eyes. Marshall gives me his handkerchief. My voice trembles as I protest. "I'm not going to let fear take away the joy. I can't want to wait to tell everyone."

Marshall swallows hesitantly. "Everyone?"

"My mother, your parents – if you want to – that's up to you. We can wait till the end of the first trimester but I think we should tell Stan now."

Marshall's pale. Having had Norah I'm somewhat prepared for parenthood. As much as Marshall wants to be a father, the reality seems more than he's ready for. He'll come around – after reading every pregnancy and parenting book he can get his hands on!

I'm dressed and we collect baby's first pictures at the desk while making my next appointment. In the car I'm determined to continue the conversation.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. "You don't want to tell your folks?" He's sweating bullets now, caught between pleasing me and wondering how his folks will take the news.

He coughs and swallows nervously. "I want to prepare them a little. They don't even know we've been dating. My father will be here next week for Operation Falcon. Why don't we tell him then?"

"Really? You want to tell your Dad first? What happened to Mr. I Call My Mother Every Day?"

He sniffs, dismissively. "I do call my Mom every day. She knows you're my partner. I've told her about you, Jinx and Brandi. I think she suspects we're together but she's waiting for me to tell her. She doesn't pry. She's waiting for me to spill."

"Okay, okay. We'll do it your way. I'm looking forward to meeting the legend that is Seth Mann." I rub my hands together in anticipation.

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"I know you. You're going to try to get him to tell you embarrassing stories of my childhood. Not gonna happen." How did he figure that?

"Why?"

"First of all he wasn't around for much of my childhood."

I look at him quizzically. As far as I knew his parents marriage was solid.

"He was leading so many manhunts he wasn't home a lot."

"Wait. You have two brothers?"

"Um three."

"Three brothers and you. Four children. Four boys. He was home enough."

Marshall smiles at that. "Well he did accomplish a few things at home during those years."

"So your Mom was practically a single mom." Sure sounds like it to me.

"Well yes, but she had her family nearby. She had friends who helped out too. It was a special treat for us to go stay with Aunt Betty and Uncle Bert. It was years before I realized that our vacation was her vacation too."

"You'll have much better luck getting embarrassing stories from Mom," he assures me. "If we can get the 4th of July weekend off you can meet my family. My brothers and their families come to my folks for the 4th. We could get it over in one shot."

"If the doc says everything's okay and I can travel. . . ."

Now it's my turn to sweat. I want a family with Marshall, but I hadn't appreciated that meant being part of Marshall's family. He often talks about growing up with his brothers, but now what they are doing now? Are they all marshals? I know he said he calls his mother every day but I always thought that was hogwash. What would he say?

* * *

Before we know it Operation Falcon is in full swing, and once again, Marshall and I have no time to talk to Stan. Just like before Billy, Marshall's witness gets spotted by Seth who goes after him when Amber escapes Liam Sykes house. Seth wouldn't wait for backup and he assumes Amber is running so when Billy scoops Amber off the street Marshall has to stop his dad from shooting them. The jig is well and truly up.

Can I change things so we find Amber sooner? I know she has stashed the money in her locker at the U-Move where she works, and that Billy calls Sykes messing up our sting. We're leaving Joan's store after she tells us where Liam is holed up. I grab Marshall's arm as they head to the truck. "ABQPD doesn't take kindly to having their CI's bumped off. I'm going to stash Joan in a safe house. You and Seth call for back up and get Liam." Seth gives me an odd look when I go back to the store instead of going with them. Marshall's calling for back up. Thank God! If by some chance Liam is there this time around, Marshall and his Dad will have help taking him down.

I use the CI's car to get to the safe house then I borrow it. I call Marshall and tell him Billy is heading to the U-Move and will go there to head him off.

Although I haven't thrown up today but I'm so tired. I find a bench in the tiny break room of the U-Move and hunker down to wait for Billy. The place is stuffy, dark. The only sound the hum of the fluorescent emergency lights and the rain.

Seth had no clue about WitSec. I had tried to tell him why Marshall's approach works but he wasn't listening. Men like him are focused on results. If he had waited for back up at the address Joan gave us they would have taken Liam and his gang down there and then. Now he's chasing Billy and Amber to get the money Amber took. If I can stop Billy from calling Liam he'll stay in the office and be okay. Billy can't call his brothers to tell them about the deal. Brothers? Why would he call his brothers? He only has one and Mexican prisons don't allow phone calls.

I shake my head to clear it and gasp as I open my eyes. I hear Billy talking. Dammit! He's talking to Liam. Crap! Damn pregnancy naps. I've got to get Billy hidden before Liam arrives.

Before Billy finishes talking to Liam I call Marshall. He wants to know why I 'let' it happen but I scream at him to get back up and get his ass over here. Billy drops the bag of money onto the table when I yell.

I approach him slowly, showing my badge. "Amber's safe Billy. I'm Marshall's partner. She's okay, she's not hurt, and you won't be either if you do what I say." I give him time to let that fact sink in. "Liam's on his way here and you need to hide. Marshall's coming and we'll take care of Liam. Okay?"

Billy doesn't know what to think. Dear God where can I hide Billy? We're out of time. Liam's coming in the door. Billy grabs the bag of cash and throws it at Liam. Liam lets it drop and chases Billy out into the rain. I spring up and follow them.

Liam is chasing Billy down rows of campers and trailers parked in the back lot. The rain and dark and poor lighting make for a dangerous game of hide and seek. I've lost track of Billy then spot him an aisle over from Liam. Liam must hear him too because he starts following Billy. Seth is marching down the aisle not seeing Liam waiting at the end. I'm on my back, under a u-haul as Seth starts down the aisle. Sykes jumps out, gun at the ready. I got a clear shot and bring him down. Seth startles thinking someone is shooting at him. Then he spots Sykes and goes to the man lying on the wet ground.

Car doors slam. Marshall's here. And in seconds I hear him. "Dad?"

"I got this son. Thanks to your partner there." Seth has Sykes handcuffed as I call for a bus. The EMTs arrive and marshals accompany Sykes to the ER where he'll be patched up then transported to jail.

I'm rolling around in the mud, yelling at Marshall. "Marshall, get over here."

Marshall has a huge smile almost laughing at me with my hair trailing in the muck. "Laugh now Doofus. It's going to be your last laugh." Just you wait Marshall. Never mess with a pregnant woman!

"Marshall!" Seth commands. "Give the lady a hand."

* * *

A/N: Whew! Just finished this chapter in time to post it. Who do Mary and Marshall tell first? Stan or Seth?


	16. Stan the Man

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 16

 _Stan the Man_

 _MARY POV_

Operation Falcon is over. Marshall, Seth and I got Liam booked. The EMT's took Billy to the ER and Amber is with the AUSA who will decide if her testimony gets her entry to the wonderful world of witness protection. Will they go into WitSec together? Will they stay together? They're awfully young, but the kind of things they've been through can make you grow up fast.

I swear the paperwork to lock Liam up takes longer than his sentence. We're in Marshall's car leaving the lockup with Seth in the back seat. I'd throw up if I had to sit back there. I can't wait to get home and get the mud out of my hair, neck, jacket, pants. God it's everywhere! Then I notice Marshall isn't heading to my house. "Where in the hell are you going?" It's still pouring rain and I'm dripping on Marshall's car seats.

"We're going to the hospital to check on Billy." Did Marshall forget he's got a pregnant woman on board?

"Tonight?" I whine. "If I get catch cold you're next," I mutter. Then louder, "Can you take me home first?" He glances over as I wave an barf bag from the glove box. It's low enough that Seth can't see it.

"Are you always this concerned about your witnesses?" Seth asks.

"I can't command compliance, Dad." Marshall explains. "We have to get the witness to accept not only his new persona but also realize what he needs to do to maintain it. After they testify we have to keep up our end of the deal. Billy has no family here. There's no one to visit him. He needs to know someone cares. He's a good kid."

"Hijacked by his hormones," Seth growls.

"That may be, but you're only young once." Marshall sounds as if that's a good thing.

"Mare?" he glances at me. "Call the AUSA's office and arrange to pick up Amber. I'll drop you off on the way there. Okay?"

Good thing I'm feeling more cold than nauseous. "Yeah, sure."

After taking care of that, Seth clears his throat and I watch him in the rear-view mirror. He's looking embarrassed? Concerned? Constipated?

"Thanks Mary. You . . um . . . saved my life back there." Oh that's it. He's used to doing the saving, not being saved. It's hard for him to admit that he missed something. Welcome to the human race. No one's perfect.

"You're a good partner Mary. I'm glad you have his back. That means a lot to his mother and me." He sighs. I know that was difficult for him. "If she was here Beth would insist I at least take you to dinner."

Marshall adds his two cents. "I told Mom about Johnny's Ribs. You get cleaned up and we'll pick you up after I get Amber and Billy taken care of. Okay?"

Shit! I'm not up to dinner. Not tonight. I wave the barf bag again. Between the mud, diving under the trailers and keeping Seth from getting shot, my stomach's churning. Will he be offended if I beg off?

"Thanks, I appreciate the offer but I've got an early day tomorrow and I don't think mud hair styling becomes me. Raincheck?" Seth doesn't look too disappointed. Hard to tell if his feelings were hurt. Maybe he's looking forward to some one on one time with Marshall.

"Dad?"

"Yeah." Seth may not be disappointed but I can tell he's tired.

"Why don't Mary and I come out for the 4th of July? Then you can show her real barbeque." Marshall raises his eyebrows in challenge.

"I'll have to talk to your mother, but I don't see why not. Don't expect to see me at the grill, Mary. Marshall's brothers have spent way to much time experimenting with rubs and sauces. All I do is eat."

"4th of July sounds good" I pipe up. "You do realize, partner, we have to talk Stan into letting us both go." With Delia and the Phoenix marshals he should be able to cover our witnesses for a few days. We can hit him up for the time off when we talk to him about Peanut.

"You'll get to meet mom and the whole Mann clan." Ugh! Marshall says it like it's a good thing. Joy.

* * *

In the end we decided not to tell Seth about the baby. He and Beth will find out on the 4th. I wouldn't mind spending more time with Seth and meeting his mother, but the whole family? What are his brothers and their wives going to think of me? If I'm showing by then I'll be the blonde bitch trapping their son by getting pregnant direct from SlutsRus. But Marshall and Seth think it's a good idea. Fireworks and barbeque at the Mann family home. Fun, fun.

After Seth leaves the office reverts to business as usual. Marshall and I rehearse how to tell Stan our news and wait for an opportune time, which turns out to be the following Tuesday. Stan came into the office smiling and humming. Always a good sign. No emergencies. No new directives from Allison Pierson. And most importantly Delia, our interoffice broadcast system, was out on witness visits. I look at Marshall, look at Stan's office and he nods in agreement. No better time than now.

I knock on Stan's door. He looks up and beckons us in. We sit in the visitor chairs in front of his desk. As usual I throw our carefully orchestrated script out the window and pull out one of the grainy sonogram photos slapping it on his desk before sitting down.

"What's this?" Stan picks it up, studying it like a piece of evidence. Which it is. Evidence of what's going on between Marshall and I.

"What does it look like?" I harrumph.

"A, what do they call these? A sonogram?" His pinky gently outlines the peanut shape in the middle of the grainy oatmeal. "Is one of your witnesses pregnant?"

"Nope. Someone closer," I snark.

Stan looks up and stares at me. I try for my poker face but he can see the gleam in my eyes. Marshall's grinning too. "You? You're pregnant? You swore you'd never have children. How did this happen?"

Marshall can't resist. "I think it's safe to say it happened the usual way."

That flusters Stan as Marshall knew it would. "I mean, I mean, uh, what are you going to do?"

"Check in with my doctor, work as long as I can, and sit on my fat ass when the doc sticks me on desk duty. Have the baby then take maternity leave while I learn how to live without sleep."

Softly Stan asks. "You're going to keep the baby?"

"Yes, we are," Marshall replies. Stan hasn't been paying attention to Marshall and startles at his comment.

"So, you two?" He waves his finger from me to Marshall and back again.

"Ah ah Stan. Don't ask don't tell." I'm just teasing.

He looks down and grumbles "I knew it. I knew it. About damn time." Stan opens a desk drawer and tosses a manila file labeled M&M across the desk. "I've investigated your options. Here's what I came up with. Take it and let me know what you decide."

"Thanks Stan," Marshall takes the folder. "One more thing. Mary and I have been invited to the Mann family BBQ over the 4th. Any chance we can both be off?"

Stan rubs his bald pate, elbows on his desk. "Lemme see what I can do." He looks up with a gentle smile. "So, congratulations?"

Marshall takes my hand and we gaze at each other. His smile takes up his whole jaw. "Yup. We are excited."

"And scared," I add. "Lots of things can go wrong during the first trimester." I know Mr. Pregnancy has been reading up on it. He's been kind enough not to rain on my parade, sharing only what happens next, not everything that can happen.

Stan reaches across the desk and takes my hand. "Don't go borrowing trouble. I appreciate that you trust me with this now. I don't have to report it till you tell me officially – after the first trimester. Okay?"

"Yeah, thanks Stan." I want to be happy, I want to rejoice that this baby was conceived in love not lust. Guess my rose colored glasses just slipped a little as all the things that can go wrong came to mind. Marshall puts his arm around my shoulders, trying to hug the scared out of me.

Stan sits back, clasping his hands in front of him. "So, do you two have any other plans I should know about?"

Marshall looks at me and we have a silent discussion whether we should tell Stan we're moving in together. I nod. In for a penny, in for a pound. Marshall clears his throat into his folded hand. "Yes, there is one other thing. I'll need a change of address form."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I'm moving to . . ." Marshall gives Stan my address. Stan's eyebrows climb and he taps the manila folder.

"Read this first. It will save all of us a lot of trouble. Okay?"

"Sure Stan," I assure him. "We'll read it tonight."

* * *

A/N: Updates won't be as punctual as in the past since I don't have any more chapters ready to go. But I can guarantee there's no smooth sailing for these two. Thanks for reading, and following. (Hi Meg and Jojo!)


	17. Parents or Partners?

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 17

Parents or Partners?

Marshall and I went to my place and read the information from Stan. We were surprised, but not relieved that there's no reg prohibiting married couples from working together, even as partners. I think the fact that there are female marshals hasn't penetrated the all male hierarchy. Stan had called his buddies and none of them could name any married marshals who were partners. Regs might not forbid it, but no one had actually done it. Or they did but kept it really quiet.

Stan doesn't brag but he has lots of contacts. Marshall suspects and I know that it's only a matter of time before Stan gets promoted. In my old life he was kicked upstairs and Marshall became Chief. I can't see any reason it wouldn't happen in this life.

"You know Stan wants you to be Chief." I'm on the couch with Stan's research scattered between us on the coffee table. Marshall looks up from the print out he's studying.

"He's never said anything directly to me, but he's shown me bits of what he does as Chief. It does help me understand where he's coming from, but it wasn't necessary to do my job." He dry washes his face. "You're assuming there will be an Albuquerque WitSec office in the future. With Pierson's audits and investigations, I'm not so sure."

"That's why she's snooping. Pierson wants to make sure that our office is worthy - no scandals, nothing embarrassing swept under the rug. She wants to make it a model for the other WitSec offices. Except for that little bitty thing called money spent." I shrug. Maybe I'm being too sanguine about this, but it could be true. I believe Pierson's bugging us for her own reasons. She's got her eye on Marshall for sure. "You are just being modest. The entire office, regional HQ and even local law enforcement see you as Stan's heir apparent.

"Yeah, then why did he call you his best Inspector?" Oh yeah. I never knew that still bothered him. It was obvious to me that Stan was bull shitting the video guys and trying to flatter me into cooperating. It worked. He's damn good at manipulating people once he puts his mind to it. I barely registered what he was doing. It never dawned on me that Marshall took Stan's praise at face value. Really?

I get up and perch on the arm of Marshall's upholstered chair, making sure he can tell I'm serious. "Because being an Inspector is different from running the place. You have what it takes to be Chief. You're a born leader, an exemplary role model. You're fair, honest and a good communicator who pays attention to people and data. Can you imagine the chaos if I was in charge? Delia would stop bringing muffins. Charlie would be hiding under his desk. The Phoenix marshals would quit or put in for transfers." I smile and run my fingers through his hair. "Nope, this broad can barely manage herself."

Marshall's doesn't know how to take my compliments. "What about you? Do you see your future as a marshal and a mom?"

Good question. There's lost of questions about the future. Even having lived a version of this life, I don't have any answers. There's Marshall and I as a couple. Will that really work? Can we continue working together? Can I continue to be an Inspector? Can we work together and stay in Albuquerque WitSec? Who's going to take care of the baby?

I stand and walk back to the couch and sit facing him. "When it comes to our jobs, can we, should we stay partners? According to the regs and protocols Stan gave us, we could, but we've got more than ourselves and our jobs to consider."

His eyes dart to my barely there baby bump. His expression is an odd combination of joy and concern. He expects me to act first and think later. This time around I know better.

"Look, I don't mean to be greedy," I tell him. "But one of us should stay home with the baby as long as we can. One parent needs to be in the area at all times. Close enough for doctor visits, emergency room runs, sick baby duty. All that stuff."

"You've thought about this." He seems surprised. "What constitutes being greedy? Spending time with the baby or staying on the job?"

He honestly doesn't know? I turn to him and smirk. "So, you ready to play baby daddy?" I can imagine him with a burp cloth over his shoulder, wild hair and a delicious dinner simmering on the stove. If anyone can multitask, it's Marshall.

He gives me a dour look. "As much as I would enjoy staying home with our child, she'll need you in a way that she won't need me - at least for the first few years. _She? Does Marshall think the baby's a girl?_

"Dad's get 8 weeks paternity leave. You get six months maternity leave. She needs you to be there for her. After six months we'll have to find child care or one of us will have to go on extended leave." He inhales deeply and looks at me his brow wrinkled.

"Or quit." I add.

"Or quit. I need to know you're safe to be able to do my job." I start to protest and he holds up his hand to stop me.

"I need you to be as safe as any other mother and child," he continues. "We know the world is a dangerous place, and accidents happen, but there are jobs, even in the Marshal Service, that are less likely to result in getting shot."

"So you're saying I should quit WitSec?" As troubling as that prospect is, we have to consider it.

"No." His smirks, chagrined. "I know better than to tell Mary Shannon what to do."

"But you would like me to change jobs or leave law enforcement. Right?" In my old life I would have fought tooth and nail to stay in WitSec. This time around I know he's right, although I don't have to leave the marshals all together. Babies need their momma's and this momma needs her baby.

"Marshall, I would never ask you to leave the Marshal Service, but if I can't have your back, I will worry. I wouldn't worry as much if you were in an office. But you wouldn't be happy with that."

"Maybe not," he agrees, "but I'd be willing to try. If I get promoted, that's what I would be doing. Look at how seldom Stan gets out." He looks up, grinning. "Those meetings he has to attend can be pretty volatile, but no one's ever been shot. Not as far as we know."

"So what are we going to do?" I didn't have an answer when it was just Norah and I. This time, with Marshall and a baby I have only questions.

As I hoped Marshall has an idea. "We need to decide on our priorities. I'm assuming you want us to live together." He lifts his head and gazes at me.

"Of course I want to live with you Doofus! If you think I'm doing diaper duty on my own you've got another think coming!"

"How important is it that we stay in Albuquerque? If we want to leave, there may be more job opportunities for both of us. Do we want to stay US Marshals or look at the private sector? Could we share a job so one of us is always home with our child?"

"Guess we should see what kinds of jobs are out there first. We can ask Stan." Job sharing? Never thought of that. Sounds too good to be true.

Marshall dry washes his face. "Yeah. Stan can check out other Marshal regions as well as the FBI. Hell he probably has contacts in the Treasury Department, DEA and CIA. He can find out if there is any department allowing job sharing." He gets a far away look. "I could teach."

I imagine Marshall in a kindergarten classroom cajoling miniature marshals to form two straight lines to march to the playground. Or wrangling smart alecky teenagers, wowing them with his marksmanship and martial arts expertise. My brain sputters as I yawn.

"Mare?"

"Huh?"

"We're not going to figure this out tonight." He stands and takes my hand. His arms envelop me and my lips close on his, accepting his comfort and caring and returning it. How stupid I was to pass up this love in my other life.

"Let's get some sleep," he says. "We'll work on this when we're rested."

The exhaustion of being pregnant and the comfort of lying next to Marshall usually sends me to dreamland. Our talk tonight has me wide awake. Getting Marshall to love me in this life was easy. Too easy. Is it real? Was I assuming this Marshall loved me as much as the Marshall in my old life had? He's a lot like my Marshall but there are differences. He's not as cynical. I don't think I hurt him as much as I hurt 'my' Marshall. Was I so focused on getting pregnant, filling the hole left by Norah that I didn't even consider what this Marshall wants? Had I trapped him by getting pregnant? I've always been a selfish bitch.

Should I give him a way out? Should I try to push him away or would that hurt him more? The stabbing pain in my chest tells me it would hurt me more. My whole reason for being here, in this time, is so Marshall remains alive and stays in my life. He's not just my baby daddy. He's my partner.

Marshall stirs. "Mare? I can tell you're grinding those mental gears. What's going on? Are you worried about the baby?"

Yeah, let's go with that. "My eggs are thirty years old. Will the baby be healthy?"

"Thirty is well within the viable child bearing age. You're in good health and Doc Reese says the baby is developing normally. She'll be monitoring you and the baby. It will be okay." He turns his head kissing my cheek gently. "You'll see."

"Think so?"

"I know so." He puts his arm around me and I nestle into his chest ready to be reassured. "Everything I've read indicates we have a shot at a perfectly normal healthy pregnancy." He kisses my forehead and turns me so we're spooning my back to his front. He knows it's easier for me to talk if I'm not facing him.

"Do you really want this? Me? This baby? Please, don't feel obligated to stay with me just to do the right thing."

Marshall rolls us over so he can see my face. I can tell he mostly thinks I'm nuts, but there's a bit of concern, of worry too. "Mare? Where is this coming from? How could you think that I'm here out of obligation? Being with you, having a baby with you is the best thing that ever happened to me. It's my dream come true!" He palms my cheeks and gently kisses me. "I love you. I've loved you since I first met you."

I snort in disbelief. "Oh sure. You just adored me when we were escorting Henry and Claudia."

"Well maybe not right away, but over the course of our journey west I came to appreciate that there's more to you than the rough persona you presented. You listened to my ramblings about my family and shared some details of your childhood. Even then I knew you didn't tell most people about that. And that doesn't begin to take into account your advice to Henry and your kindness to Claudia. I knew you'd make a good WitSec Inspector, and I was right."

I put my arms around his neck and pinch him.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"So that's all I was to you? Another Inspector for WitSec?" I tease. "Someone to take over your excess witnesses?"

He looks away, pensive and gets a silly grin. "Well there was that. Stan and I were swamped and couldn't begin to handle all the witnesses we had. Stan wasn't supposed to be taking care of witnesses at all. He never dropped his old witnesses and he helped me with some of the new ones. I learned a lot from Stan."

I grab his cheeks and make him look at me. "And I learned a lot from you."

"Eh, not so much. You already had a well developed bull shit detector. You just needed to tone it down once in a while." He caresses my cheek and focuses on my lips. "Some of our witnesses respond better to gentler treatment."

I push his shoulder. "That's what we have you for. You're the girl in our partnership." Marshall purses his lips in mock disgust.

I snuggle against his, feeling every part of him, including some distinctly awake bits. "Now that I know you better I can tell you're no girl." He rolls me onto my back and proceeds to prove it.

* * *

A/N: This is now a WIP so posting will be erratic. Real life and health issues intrude. Thanks for reading.


	18. Abigail

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 18

Abigail

After a session of lovemaking we're both sapped and sated. Lying face down afterwards usually sends me right to dreamland. Not this time. Knowing I'm pregnant and feeling that little stomach lump reminds me how different my life is this time around. I look over at Marshall happy to see him lying on his back blissfully passed out. Our love making drains his energy big time and is quite a workout for me.

I knew I loved him when Horst's gang shot him. Seeing him fade in that deserted gas station scared the hell out of me. When I kissed him I knew there was a good chance we'd both die before I could kiss him again. I was so stupid! Being with Raph confused me, made me too chicken to do the right thing – kick Raph to the curb and tell Marshall how I felt. Thank God I got another chance.

When I was pregnant with Norah I was irritated by my thickening waistline, plump cheeks and constant need to pee. This time Marshall tells me I'm glowing, I'm beautiful. He treats me like some enchanting, exotic, sexy, woman. This time I can't wait to have a baby bump for everyone to see. This time that life is the product of my love for Marshall and his for me. God I hope the kid gets his smarts and not my poor judgement.

Despite Marshall's support, I'm scared. More afraid than I've ever been facing a bully or bullets. I've never had a long-term relationship unless you count Brandi and Jinx and they are hardly a good example. As mom once said, not a scintilla of sense between them. I don't want my relationship with Marshall to be anything like love/hate relationship I have with my mother and sister, or the shallow one I had with Raph based on sex.

And with Marshall it's so much more than sex. This time around I'm genuinely fond of him. His fact filled soliloquies are calming. I don't always listen to the words but the sound of his voice is enjoyable and sometimes soporific. He doesn't seem to mind if I fall asleep.

We've had a few fights, disagreements he calls them. The makeup sex was fantastic. What do I have to do to keep this going? At work Marshall and I are partners. If we don't mesh people could die. He could die. My whole reason for being here is to keep him alive by following my heart. Who can I talk to about this? Do I know anyone who's been in a long-term relationship and kept it going?

Usually I would talk to Marshall. But this involves him and he's obviously biased. His parents have been married for a long time, but I haven't even met his mother. I still worry that Marshall's only staying with me to do the right thing for the baby. I want this baby very much, and not just because I'm missing Norah. Every little person deserves a chance, even if she had the bad luck to have me as her mother.

I hear Marshall's breathing change and know he is awake. I roll toward him and put my arm around his waist, resting my head on his chest.

"Uummm," he grunts and swallows. "This is how I want to wake up for the rest of my life. Think you can arrange that?"

"I dunno. If you grovel and fulfill my every whim, I'll consider it," I smirk.

He rolls me beneath him, caging my head between his arms. "Grovel?"

I avoid his lips. "Yeah, you heard me, grovel. Big time."

"And what are your whims Madame?"

I pushed my pelvis into his, feeling his morning wood and my body responds with a flood of wetness. He pushes back, rubbing against me. His lips move to my breasts and gently suckle first one then the other making me squirm. I'm only a few weeks pregnant but they are already tender. Hmm. We need to talk about what he can do to toughen up my nipples for nursing!

As he lowers his mouth to mine the alarm goes off. "Damn it!" He pounds the snooze button and attempts to pick up where we left off.

I push on his chest and roll us over. Now that I'm on top, I gaze into his ice blue eyes with real fondness and pretend irritation. "Later Romeo. We have to be at that all service task force meeting today. Can't be late. Stan said we are representing the Marshal Service, and can't screw it up."

"You mean we have to be on our best behavior?"

"Um hmm." I reply, grinding into him.

"Ooo, but this is what we do best." He nuzzles the base of my neck, sucking and biting gently.

I shake him off and dismount, making him groan in disappointment. "Rise and shine, Marshall." We can't miss that meeting and I'm anxious to get it over with. This is where Marshall met the southern fried defective detective while I was on 'vacation' with Faber. This time I will be there smacking a big TAKEN sign on him. My only concern is that maybe Marshall would be better off with her.

Marshall pulls me back down, suckling my neck, my shoulders and pushing into me. "Fuck the Marshal Service!"

"Oooo, is that any way for a fifth generation marshal to speak of the service his forefather have dedicated their lives to?" I run my finger around his ear where I know he's tickelish.

He shakes his head and bats my hand away. "The last thing I want to talk about in our bed is my father. Stop it or I'll start talking about Jinx."

Eww! "You play dirty Marshall." I lean onto him and grind gently.

"Damn straight. I don't want to think about anyone but you and me. I'm not about to let the Service stop me from servicing you!" He pulls my hips back into his. We were only a little late.

* * *

Police Detective Roxanne Lewis cornered me right after we signed in. It seems that in this life she and I became best buds after I found her partner's murderer. She was full of ABQPD news and gossip about the new detective from Texas. I figured I should learn as much as I could about Abigail. Know thy enemy and all that. Turns out she'd managed to rub Roxanne the wrong way so Roxanne thought she was a pushy suck up who wasn't willing to learn how ABQPD worked. Roxanne had offered to fill her in and Abigail had blown her off. Bad move, detective.

Wait just a fucking minute. I see Abigail pushing herself against Marshall at the doughnut table. "Um, thanks Roxanne. We'll have to get together for lunch." I'm saying the appropriate things but my attention is elsewhere. I'm focused on the refreshment table. Marshall's pouring coffee for her? Certainly not for me and he already has a cup. What the hell? He's probably giving her his spiel about coffee preparation and the history of doughnuts. I hurry over and take the herbal tea he points to next to his coffee cup. I could have stood on the other side and gotten my tea, but I'm not letting that defective detective get between us. Instead I worm my way between him and Abigail, forcing her to take a step away. I pretend to be friendly with a big cheesy smile. "Hi. I'm Mary Shannon, Marshall's partner."

Abigail's eyes narrow then she pastes on a fake smile as she sizes me up. "Detective Abigail Chaffee. Nice to meet you. Marshall was telling what a fascinating place Albuquerque is. I was hoping he'd give me a tour."

"Oh he doesn't have to do that. He's written a sort of welcome to Albuquerque document. Just give him your email. He can send it to you." I examine the pastries on offer and pick up a small plate. "Oh look Marshall. They have your favorite - bear claw. Did you talk to the caterers?" I'm closer to it and reach for it. "Marshall knows a lot of caterers and pastry chefs. "Marshall takes the plate and his coffee while eying me strangely. "What?" I challenge him. "I know what you like," I lower my voice suggestively. "I'm just being helpful."

"You're not a treater or a sharer." His smile takes the sting out of his rebuke. Besides, it's true.

I shrug off his comment. "People can change." I'm no longer throwing up, but sugary fried dough turns my stomach. I help myself to a Mexican concha. Dry and not cloyingly sweet it should settle well in my tender tummy.

The man on the stage taps the microphone and ask us all to sit down. I try to wait for Abigail to settle and sit down so Marshall and I can sit far away, but he isn't in on the plan and guides me to an upholstered seat in the auditorium. Damn if Abigail doesn't park herself next to him. Nestled between two of the few women in the audience Marshall has a smug smile that I'll make him pay for later.

* * *

A/N: This re-post contains some minor changes and clean up. Major health issues have knocked the muse for a loop. Thanks for your patience.


	19. Playing nice?

Disclaimer: Mary and Marshall belong to David Maples. If they hadn't been misused by others I wouldn't be writing this.

Miraculous Mary Extended Play Version

Chapter 19

Playing Nice?

 _MARY POV_

The taskforce speakers droned on and if it was just them I would have been sound asleep. I had to admit there were some interesting and even practical procedures presented but it was Abigail's presence that kept me alert. That and Marshall's long fingers brushing my side.

Now, after a busy day, I can't sleep despite Marshall's calm snoring next to me. The house feels different when he's here. I feel different but I can still remember my former life. How does that work? Is the realization of my former mistakes ingrained in my brain, soul, whatever? With a quiet sigh I slowly roll my baby bump on my side to avoid waking him.

In my old life this task force is where Marshall met Abigail. This time **we** met Abigail I made sure they had no time alone even though she wormed her way in our small group when we broke for 'discussion.'

I feel smug about outmaneuvering the Avon Lady/Detective when we headed for the round tables where the 'discussions' were to take place. I grabbed the seat next to Marshall and following my lead, Roxanne got the seat on his other side. Abigail wasn't happy but settled for the seat across the table from Marshall and told him, "I bet you know as much or more about ABQPD's policies as I do."

"Ooof," Marshall replied with surprised look.

Confused by Marshall's response, Abigail asked. "Are you all right?"

Roxanne and I had both poked him in the ribs. I whispered into his ear. "Her eyes are up here, Doofus."

I'm not sure Abigail heard me but the other LEOs at the table made sure their eyes were on my face. Since I knew the two marshals from the court house I assumed Marshall knew them too. They remembered me and were on their best behavior. There was a guy and gal from campus security at UNM and Central Community College. I gave the hunky firefighter a big smile then jerked when Marshal's boot connected with my shin. I smiled at the group and shrugged. "All right who's playing footsie?" I nudged Marshall's shoulder making clear to all that I knew it was him. That made his ears turn a lovely shade of pink.

This group was a strange conglomeration of law enforcement and emergency service personnel. I understand there are times when they need to work together but why was WitSec here? As far as anyone knew we were just another pair of US Marshals.

"So," one of the local officers began once everyone was seated and introduced. "What should we talk about?"

Marshall, of course, already had a topic. "Interagency communication during a natural or manmade emergency." I bet he'd been thinking about this since we got the notice to attend. "Each of our agencies has their own communication system. In an emergency we need to talk directly to each other. Otherwise we can't coordinate. How are we going to do that?"

The discussion went on and on. When I had enough I stood up, put my fingers in my mouth and whistled making Marshall wince. "Listen up. You're making this harder than it has to be. We all have agency issued cell phones. We need to share those numbers, and voila! Contact! We could do this right here right now. If your phone number changes, or your department decides there's a better one, there should be some fancy schmancy computer program to forward that new number to everyone who needs it. Right Doo…- _oh geeze I can't call him Doofus in front of this group_ – Inspector Mann?" I looked at my partner fondly. Looking at the group, I explained, "He's a whiz with computers."

Silly me. Of course that didn't end the discussion. It kicked off a new tangent on privacy and time off the job. We didn't resolve anything, but the fire boys said they would find out what other cities had done. Sounded good to me.

As we left the conference I made sure we avoided Missy defective detective on our way through the parking structure.

"Hey Mare?"

"Umm?" I replied as we wound our way to our car.

"Dinner? My place?"

"You cooking?" Marshall's an adventurous chef enamored of trying new techniques he discovers online. Wonder if he watches the Food Network? I never thought to ask. If our schedule allowed he'd be a full time foodie. He'd probably still be as skinny too. Damn male metabolism that doesn't turn every carb to fat.

He turned and smiled as we climbed into his truck. "For the mother of my child? I could be persuaded."

"Oh you could, could you?" I leaned close and put my hand on his knee, sliding up inch by inch, my lips close but not touching.

Marshall leaned forward for a chaste peck then moved my hand. "We need to get home in one piece, Mare. Be a good girl and keep your hands to yourself."

That made me laugh. "I thought you liked it when I was bad?" I moved my hand down and patted his knee before removing it all together. Without looking Marshall grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. "Pas maintenant mon amour."

"What the hell does that mean?" I had a pretty good idea.

"I think you know."

"Yeah, but it's more fun to give you a hard time," I winked and he grimaced acknowledging the effect I had on him.

That night we talked about the task force meeting and what to put in our report to Stan. Abigail was never mentioned. Whew! A bullet dodged - at least for now. Despite the satisfying sexercise that ended our day, I can't stop worrying about our partnership and this baby. Am I doing the right thing? Will this keep Marshall alive or am I being selfish trying to make this child fill the hole left by Norah?

* * *

A/N: Major health issues continue, but I haven't given up on this story. Thanks to zanthinegirl for her encouraging review. Pas maintenant mon amour = Not now my love.


	20. Ravetty Rabbits

Miraculous Mary EP

Chapter 20

MARY POV

Ravetty Rabbits

My arm is reaching, stretching, trying to grab the white foot disappearing down a white tunnel. I recognize Brandi's sock, her little foot just beyond my grasp. The tunnel closes in. I'm trying to yell but my call is lost, muffled. I know it's her. What the hell?

I try to roll over but can't. There's something (someone?) behind me. Now barely awake, my full bladder is screaming at me to scramble out of bed. Glancing over my shoulder I can't help staring at the blanket covered lump that is Marshall. Hard to believe I've gotten a second chance. He's so child like, soft, untroubled. So different from the sharp witted hyper alert WITSEC marshal. I've never known anyone as intelligent as him. Will he figure out I have 'special knowledge' from my past life? Should I tell him what I remember? Then we both could work to avoid catastrophes. Of course if I was him I'd wrestle me into a straight jacket and send me to the funny farm ASAP.

As I take care of business I consider the differences between this Marshall and my Marshall. Except he never was mine. I knew he liked me. He's my first actual partner. Initially he was appalled by my rudeness. His opinion changed when he saw the effect on his witnesses – Henry and Claudia. That surprised him, and I don't think there's a whole lot that surprises him. Knowing I had lived a whole different life would probably do it.

On that first transport Marshall shared a childhood memory of driving at night with his Dad and brothers. My Marshall learned not to reveal anything about his personal life because I'd tease him mercilessly. Marshall can talk for hours about cannons, famous US Marshals, philosophy, badminton, anything but himself. This time I've been able to ferret out many details because he's too dear to tease.

I remember the first time Marshall and I made love. I thought I would lead. Ha! He knew every one of my hot spots. Didn't get that out of any book. He said he simply paid attention. He prolonged our love making until I thought I was going to explode. First time in my life I ever begged a man for sex. He looked damn smug, and somehow, I didn't mind.

Slowly settling back in bed, I carefully draw up the covers trying not to wake him. He's a handsome man, with a sculpted body he hides under his jackets. He's so tall, his shoulder don't look as broad as they really are. There's a lot of power hidden there. I want to run my hands over his chest, feel his smooth skin, circle the bullet scar from Lola's gang, but that will wake him for sure. Was my Marshall, my old Marshall as fit? Did I miss that or just push it to the back of my mind refusing to acknowledge his attractiveness?

This Marshall seems less complicated. He hasn't abandoned his many hobbies, except when work demands it. He drags me along on his weekend museum jaunts. I don't complain. It's even kind of fun. Besides if he's going to stay alive, I have be with him at all times. True, he's dialed back the classes he takes, but he's immersed himself in our partnership, our relationship. It's unnerving to be the focus of his attention, but gratifying at the same time. He doesn't replace Norah, but his love takes the edge off my pain, and this new little one growing inside me gives me hope of joy to come.

Brandi. That dream, the small sock foot was hers. I always worry about Brandi. Daddy told me it was my job to look out for my little sister. Now she's all grown up and for once in her life holding down a decent job, working for Peter. If events follow my former life, she's about to be accused of grand theft auto. I've got to get her to stop staying late at the dealership. I'll invite her to an early dinner tonight and see if I can get her to leave early every night. After all, she's got a wedding to plan. Marshall will cover for me if Stan complains. I'll talk to Peter about how unsafe it is for her to be there alone.

About the time I close my eyes the damn alarm goes off. I pretend to sleep and watch Marshall silence the alarm and stealthily climb out of bed, so I can sleep while he showers. He was always thoughtful. Took me a while to realize that didn't mean he was a push over.

Marshal's clean scent hits my nose. "Mare, Mare." He's leaning over me so I put my arms around his neck but end up yawning in his face. Ack! Morning breath is so seductive! He wisely draws back.

"Hey Momma. If you're this tired why don't you stay home today, or at least this morning? I'll talk to Stan."

I roll over and groan. As wonderful as that sounds, I can't do it. Something only I know could kill him. Besides, I need to make sure the defective detective doesn't get her claws into him. I know I'm being paranoid, but she's better for him and I can't let him figure that out. I'm afraid he'll wake up and see all her sparkly politeness and realize what a crazy bitch he's hooked himself to.

Just imagine him introducing her to his parents. His mother would hug Abigail and his dad and brothers would smile their approval. I dread going to meet his family on the 4th of July - the fat blonde broad who was stupid enough to get herself knocked up. Their little brother doing the right thing. Just thinking about it makes my stomach flip. Or maybe that's the morning sickness returning.

I'm running late so we take separate cars. At his desk we (meaning Marshall) writes our report for Stan on the task force meeting/training conference, whatever the hell it was. I'm sitting behind Marshall kibitzing as he types when his cell phone rings. "Just one more paragraph and this will be done. Can you get that please?" I yank it out of his jacket pocket, smiling as he squirms because I pretend to drop his phone between his legs. "Marshall's phone, Inspector Shannon speaking." I don't recognize the number, but I wouldn't if it was Marshall's witness.

"This is Detective Chaffee. Inspector . . . .Mary?"

Abigail. How in the hell did she get his cell number? This had better not be a social call. I saw her ogle Marshall's ass the entire conference. It takes considerable effort to be polite. "What can the Marshal Service do for you Detective?"

"Something the Albuquerque police can do for you," she says cheekily. "We have Simon Garrett in custody. The Marshal Service has flagged his record."

How in the world did he get into Albuquerque without us knowing? After Horst I'm leary of criminals who get themselves jailed. Did Garrett set this up? He's the kingpin of a drug network. What is he doing here? How in the hell did the ABQPD get him?

"Marshall!" His finger hits the print command and he turns to me. "It's Garrett. Your detective girlfriend has him."

"What? Who?"

"When, why and where." I intone. "Detective Chaffee says Garrett's in their lockup."

Marshall leans toward me and takes the phone angling it so we can both hear. "This is Marshall Mann. Good morning Detective Chaffee. What are you holding Garrett on?"

"Breaking and entering. He was arrested in a residence on 14th Street." Oh God, that's Jared's street. I look over at Marshall. He takes the phone.

"Did you find the person who lives at the residence?"

Where the hell is Jared?

Cradeling the phone between his chin and his shoulder he gathers his gun and badge, shuts down his computer and locks his desk. "Simon Garrett is wanted on federal kidnapping and bank robbery charges. The Marshal Service will take custody."

"I figured as much. He's in holding. Hasn't asked for his lawyer, or a phone call." Abigail supplies.

"Good. Was there anyone else in the house?" Where in the hell is Jared, Marshall's witness?

"No, the place was unoccupied."

I grab a pen and write, "jail?" Marshall nods. "Detective? Please check if there's a Jared Ravetty availing himself of the your organization's accommodations."

"Uh, sure. He one of yours?" His silence is her answer. She knows he can't say. Stupid! I shake my head in disgust. Why does she even ask?

"No, no one by that name is on the roster. Let me check with the desk sergeant."

"I'd appreciated that Detective Chaffee."

"Sure. "

If Jared is AWOL we'll have to chase him down and keep Garrett away from him. And Garrett doesn't travel alone. His cronies are here, looking for Jared. Could Garrett have found Jared through a leak in the Marshals Service?

"Inspector?"

"Yes."

"Jared Ravetty isn't in custody. He hasn't signed in as a visitor and Sergeant Driscoll doesn't let anyone not assigned to this precinct enter without signing in."

"Thank you Detective. If he shows up there tell him to call me."

"Sure." She sounded miffed knowing that I'm listening to their conversation. Too bad. He's not her boyfriend, not this time around.

Marshall is getting the report from the printer and tosses it on his desk. "Where in the hell is Ravetty?"

I start gathering my things when Marshall glares at me. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm you're partner, remember?"

"My **pregnant** partner." He stops and points at me. " **You** are staying here. Call the court house and get some Marshals to take custody of Garrett! Check the files on Garrett and see who he's traveling with these days."

"Stan?" I yelp, disappointed and irritated. It's bad enough I can't stand coffee but to be relegated to desk duty too?

Stan, coffee in hand, comes out of his office. I hold my breath trying not to vomit from the smell. "Ravetty is missing and Marshall is going after him without me."

Stan takes a sip, a quizzical look on his face that melts as soon as he puts the pieces together. Pregnancy means no field work, at least no chasing dangerous felons. Marshall is heading toward the gate. "Marshall, wait up," Stan yells as he leaves his cup on my desk and runs into his office for his piece and badge.

"Mary stay here. Track Ravetty's phone. Check with his employer. You know the drill." Stan scoots out of the office behind Marshall. I hold his cup as far away as I can and dump it in the sink.

Oh hell. I know it's the right call, but it irritates me to depend on Stan to keep Marshall safe. I grab my cup heading for the stash of herbal tea hoping it will calm my stomach. The last thing I want to do is puke.

Sitting at my desk with my nose in a cup of chamomile, I try to figure out what in the hell is going on while I run a trace on Ravetty's phone. I don't remember this happening before. What caused something new to happen? What else is going to change in this life?

Garrett's in town. He let ABQPD arrest him so I know he's got someone else running his errands, and what do you want to bet that killing Jared Ravetty is at the top of his to do list? "Damn, the trial is in two weeks."

Where would he take Ravetty? Where would Ravetty go to be safe?

My phone rings interrupting my ramblings. It's Marshall huffing, out of breath. Probably had to chase the idiot. "Mare, I got him. We're going off the grid for an indeterminate time. I'll call you as soon as I can." Before I can say anything, he's gone.

Even though pregnancy has scrambled my brain I know how Marshall's mind works. Since Garrett's in town, Marshall suspects a leak. He'll avoid any of the usual safe houses, official cars and such. Where would he go that no one in the office knows?

Does anyone owe him a favor and have somewhere they can stash Jared? Maybe Stan has a second home? Stan could have secure hidey hole. He's almost as paranoid as me. I remember Marshall and Stan talking about cabins. Marshall recommending Rainbow Canyon. He said it was geologically stable, meaning it didn't have a lot of rock slides. If Stan bought a place there I should be able to find it. Looks like I can ask the man himself. Stan is at the gate red faced and flustered.

I stand and put my hands on my hips making him get his key card to get in. "Where's Marshall?"

Stan looks around. "Uh, I thought he'd be here? He left before me." He walks up and takes my arm. "He told me to make sure his baby mama eats, so let me take you to lunch." He checks his watch and narrows his gaze at me. Stan wants to talk, just not here. Does he seriously think the office is bugged?

I tap the desk tossing my hair to the side and sigh. "God, I'm so hungry you'd think I'm eating for two." We walk to the nearby deli and he sits next to me and the bartender/waiter whatever the hell he is puts a corn beef sandwich in front of him. I try not to inhale hoping the smell won't make me barf. Actually it smells good, and I order one.

"So do you know anything about Garrett or Ravetty or where the hell Marshall is?" Umm, the sauerkraut in this Rueben is just perfect. I'm so hungry I'm too busy chewing to hear Stan's ramblings. Fortunately Stan has realized that Mary is out to lunch mentally as well as physically and pays attention to his own sandwich.

Lunch devoured Stan picks up our drinks and moves outside. He leans forward. "Last year Marshall and I were talking about vacation get aways and he told me that he used to spend several weeks of his summer vacation at his aunt's cabin in the Sandia mountains. I got the impression he was thinking of buying it from her, but leaving the property in her name, Katherine Battle Gordy.

* * *

A/N: Nope, I haven't given up on this story. Health issues intruded. Thanks for your patience.


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